


Amare Non Obstante Tenebris

by ABlackRaven



Series: Amare [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Cedric Diggory Lives, Character Death, Child Abuse, Dolores Umbridge is Her Own Warning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt Harry Potter, I promise all Angst is eventually followed by Fluff, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Protectiveness, Romantic Soulmates, Sequel, Torture, Umbridge is a bitch, Violence, eventually, number of chapters might change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 93,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABlackRaven/pseuds/ABlackRaven
Summary: "Amare Non Obstante Tenebris."To Love Despite the Dark.Harry's Fourth Year at Hogwarts was stressful, confusing, and traumatic. But it was not all pain and sadness. After he found his soulmate in Cedric Diggory the night of the Third Task, perhaps he emerged stronger from it.How will Cedric and Harry navigate this year at Hogwarts? The Ministry has appointed a teacher who seems determined to destroy them, and the threat of Lord Voldemort looms on the horizon.A rewrite of Book 5 focused around Harry and Cedric.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin (Background)
Series: Amare [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757755
Comments: 162
Kudos: 427
Collections: Harry Potter FFs





	1. A Known Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel fic in the Amare series. I don't think you necessarily have to read the first story to understand this one, but if you're here I presume you're looking for Harry/Cedric stories. In that case, why wouldn't you want to go read the first one first?  
> Also, in writing this be aware I adapted certain sections of text from Order of the Phoenix for my own use, and made certain cuts where I believe events were not vital to the story I am telling. Things happen that I don't mention.

Part I

**Chapter 1: A Known Darkness**

Harry woke up screaming; his heart thudded in his chest, pounding a frantic tempo in his temples; his breath came in short, forced gasps. Sweat drenched his clothes and the tangled sheets covering his bed. Unshed tears swam at the edge of his eyes, which he closed desperately tight against the darkness of his room. Every muscle in his body trembled, shook with the memory of torture and horror…

It would have been better if he woke up with his scar hurting. These nightmares, of the horror and darkness of his own memories, were of a far more insidious nature, with a foe he could not point out and target. In them Harry returned to the graveyard, always the graveyard. Cedric would be there too, only he wouldn’t be hidden safely behind a gravestone

In these nightmares neither of them made it out alive, but Harry never died first. 

And before they died Voldemort would laugh as they screamed. 

In the distance, Harry vaguely recognized the sound of locks being opened. Heavy footsteps...he tensed, every muscle in his body going rigid with anxiety...the slamming of a door...light flared beyond his eyelids…

_Did I scream out loud?_

“Boy! What the devil do you think you’re doing, waking us up at this bloody hour?!” 

_Well. That answers that._

Harry forced his eyes to open, blinking as the harsh light momentarily blinded him. His vision didn’t improve much and he found himself instinctually reaching for his glasses, still dazed and shaken from his nightmare. A rough, meaty hand seized around his wrist, shoving him back painfully against the wall. 

Pain erupted as his shoulder hit the wall and a whimper escaped him. Stars swam in his vision. 

“Not a peep!” Harry managed to focus on the blurry figure of his uncle, looming over him. “I’ve got a big day at work tomorrow, if I don’t get my promotion, boy, you will wish you were never born! Is that clear?” 

“I didn’t…” 

_I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t strong enough to save him. Merlin, I’m pathetic. I’m sorry._

A rationale part of Harry’s brain knew his soulmate was fine, knew he would feel it if Cedric died. A larger part of him would never escape the vision of Cedric’s corpse, hanging lifeless bound with black cords to a gravestone, that haunted his dreams. He was left at a loss for words, knowing there was no defense he could make his uncle would ever listen to. 

“Is that clear?” Vernon repeatedly, his fingers digging painfully into Harry’s arms. 

“Clear, sir,” Harry managed to say, his voice shaky. 

Vernon flung him away like a piece of trash, marching out of the bedroom without another word. He didn’t even bother turning off the light before he slammed the door. Harry followed the sounds...first the sound of locks...then the sound of receding footsteps…

Harry lasted a handful of seconds before he broke apart. Ragged sobs tore their way out his chest, his lungs straining as they struggled to breathe. Knowing he could not afford to cry out or be heard he muffled his cries in his pillow, gritting his teeth. The tremors returned, racking through every muscle in his body.

Ever since June, ever since Voldemort had held him under the Cruciatus curse for minutes on end, Harry had found it more difficult to stop his hands from shaking. It was now nigh on impossible to stop the tremors that accompanied his anxiety. 

Somewhere distant he could remember Cedric teaching him methods to control the panic, to ground himself in the moment and overcome it. Any hope of using them was fleeting, he was left with naught to do but let it run its course. 

For what seemed like the thousandth time, Harry longed for a pair of familiar arms to hold him close. When Cedric was there, when his soulmate was close, Harry felt safe. He found his fingers running over the strip of red fabric that was wrapped around his left wrist, the tips of his fingers brushing over the ridges of the subtle embroidery. 

Slowly, he managed to calm himself, focusing on the strip of cloth as a point to ground himself to. It wasn’t nearly enough to provide true comfort, it was only a hollow echo of the feeling he had near Cedric, but it was all he had. 

Sighing, Harry sat up with a groan. He felt like a wreck and was sure he looked like a mess. Sweaty, his hair messed, dark bags under his eyes. Bruised, cut, half starved. The glamors he set on himself at the beginning of summer were surely starting to fade now, and he didn’t have any way to reapply them. 

And he didn’t feel particularly spectacular either.

He studied his right wrist for a moment. The skin was dark red, and would most certainly turn purplish by dawn. Harry didn’t care about this point, he hardly noticed the colorful patchwork that covered his skin. It was his back he was always worried about. 

Whether Vernon did or didn’t get the promotion wouldn’t matter. Harry didn’t need to be a Seer to know that. Before the lashes that crisscrossed the skin and muscles of his back even had time to properly heal, Vernon would tear open new wounds. Harry was beginning to seriously worry about infections again. 

And for what seemed like the hundredth time, Harry looked over longingly at the parchment and quill on his desk. All it would take was one letter, and Cedric would be there. He promised he would, and Cedric didn’t break promises. Harry wasn’t alone anymore. 

But then, if Dumbledore was right, Harry would be out of the protection of the blood wards. With Voldemort returned he would be in extreme danger. Cedric...Sirius...Remus...all of them would be compelled to try and protect him. By leaving, he would put them in danger. 

So, for what seemed like the hundredth time, Harry did not pick up a quill to write a letter telling the truth. He would just have to wait until they decided it was safe to move him, he wouldn’t risk putting the others in danger. The Dursleys meant pain he understood, pain he could handle. What he faced at the Dursleys was a known darkness. 

Harry stared out the window for a moment, out at the street lit by nothing more than lamps and the moon. What lay beyond that scant light, what lurked in the shadows out there, was a terrifyingly _unknown_ darkness. 

* * *

The following morning dawned to be one of those dreary mornings where even the sun seems to protest rising. Harry would have given almost anything to sleep in, to pull the covers up and shut the world out just a little longer, but he had to get up. He didn’t dare risk giving Vernon any easy excuses, not with his inevitable wrath looming over the household. 

After breakfast he returned back to his room, staying out of Petunia’s way and making his presence in the house as small as possible, to a pleasant surprise. Hedwig had flown in at some point, carrying a packet of new letters. Harry’s heart lept a little in his chest at the sight, reaching for the letters with excitement. 

A day earlier the owl carrying the _Daily Prophet_ had arrived and Harry had paid it, finding that, like usual, there was no news of any substance. The closest they got to writing about the situation was to ridicule Cedric and Harry. Of course, any expectation that he had once held that his friends letters would bring him news had also long been dashed. 

Ron and Hermione’s letters, undoubtedly, would contain much of the usual…

_“We can’t say much about you-know-what, obviously…” “We’ve been told not to say anything important to you in case our letters go astray…” “We’re quite busy but I can’t give you any details here…” “There’s a fair amount going on, we’ll tell you everything when we see you…”_

But there was never any clear indication of _when_ they would see Harry. In Harry’s birthday cards they had all said _soon_ , Cedric apologizing several times for not being there in person, but nobody had given him a precise date.

Ron and Hermione had little more than tantalizing hints in their letters, from which Harry could gather they were together--with Cedric, which was maddening--but not much more. 

It was frustrating him to no end. What, exactly, were Ron and Hermione busy with? The idea that they were involved in the fight against Voldemort while he was cooped up at Privet Drive was both infuriating and terrifying. They were potentially in danger, or at least involved, and he was being sidelined. If he wasn’t involved, he couldn’t be there to protect them. 

After everything he had been through, hadn’t he proved he belonged in the fight? 

And if Sirius and Remus had written, though they seemed to understand what he was feeling,

their letters would be just as empty, at least containing words of caution and consolation instead of hints…

_“I know this must be frustrating for you…” “Keep your nose clean and everything will be okay…” “Be careful and don’t do anything rash…” “Stay strong, please be patient…” “Keep your head up…”_

So, as Harry shifted through the stack of letters, he looked for a specific name. Cedric couldn’t offer hints any more concrete than Ron and Hermione and he would offer words of consolation like Sirius and Remus, but it was his words Harry looked forward to the most that summer. 

Cedric wrote nearly daily, though his letters had to come together in bunches. Sometimes, especially when he was locked in his room for hours on end with no companion other than his loneliness, Harry would read Cedric’s letters...over and over again…they always smelled faintly of lemons...

_“They won’t let me say anything specific, I’m sorry…” “They’ve threatened to read my letters if they suspect I’m telling you details…” “Have they hurt you?” “We’re quite busy and you really should be here…” “I’m them everyday to get you out sooner…” “It’s hard to sleep for me too…” “I’m sorry they aren’t listening to me, I wish I could tell you…” “I keep having nightmares about the graveyard…” “Are you safe?” “No one will let me visit you so we can talk in person, I’m tempted to go anyway but they’re keeping a close watch on me…” “Nobody is listening to me, not the Ministry or our crowd…” “Promise me you’re okay…” “I wish I could hug you right now…” “Are you okay?” “The Ministry is refusing to admit anything…” “I could really use a hug right now, I’m not going to lie…” “Can’t tell you specifics, but we’re alright here, we’re safe…” “I’m sorry…” “I’m sorry…” “I love you…” “I love you…” “I love you…”_

Harry grinned widely when he found the letter addressed in the same handwriting as the initials of his covered soulmark. The dred of Vernon’s return that evening suddenly left him, if only momentarily, like he had reached the eye of the storm. He broke the seal, his hands shaking, for once, with anticipation instead of fear.

_Dearest Harry,_

_I must begin, as I always do, by asking if you are okay. Are you okay, Harry? Really? Have they hurt you at all? It worries me to no end to know you’re there alone. If those Muggles have laid a single finger on you, I swear, I’ll apparate there myself and get you out. Promise me you’re telling the truth Harry. I’m worried._

_Not much has changed here, I’m afraid. My dad and I have been trying to get people to listen to us at the Ministry, nobody has. I’ve told him to back off a bit, it’s not worth risking his position in the Ministry if it won’t do any good. I’m sure you’ve seen that the Prophet refuses to listen to the truth, Fudge’s only response is to try to discredit us. It’s maddening._

_The graveyard still haunts me too, Harry. I’ve started taking potions to get any rest at all, not that it helps much. I hope the Muggles have given you something, anything, to help. It’s difficult to wake up and not be near you. I know, logically, you’ve promised me you’re okay. But I need to see you, hold you close. You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you right now._

_Nobody will listen to me when I ask to visit you in person so I can explain specifics. Apparently they’re concerned I’m in danger too, as if we all aren’t right now. All I can offer you currently is my assurances that we are all safe here, as okay as can be expected. We miss you. I miss you._

_I love you._

_Yours always,_

_Cedric_

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out part of his birthday gift from Cedric, a photograph charmed to never wrinkle when folded. Cedric grinned at the camera in the photo, waving. Behind him rose the waves of the beach. Harry had spent a considerable amount of time staring at it, memorizing every facet of his boyfriend’s smiling face. 

Ignoring the sharp pang of guilt, shoving it aside and boxing it up, Harry picked up a quill and began to draft a reply. 

_My Dear Cedric,_

_As always, I begin by offering you a simple promise; I am okay. I am safe here._

* * *

On August 2nd Harry found one of those rare times where he was allowed out of the house. It was a rare, tantalizing, bit of freedom. His back still ached and his stomach still growled, but he was at least able to escape the walls of his prison and walk about. Not that his haggard appearance, bruised beyond what his glamorous could entirely cover up, helped with the neighborhood opinion of him. Not that he cared. 

Logically, Harry knew it wasn’t smart to deliberately run into Dudley and his gang. Neighborhood children were terrified of him--even more terrified than they were of “that Potter boy,” who, they had been warned, was a hardened hooligan who attended St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. Oh, but part of Harry wanted to have them run into him, so badly. 

_Look round,_ Harry found himself thinking whenever he watched them. _Come on...look round...I’m sitting here all alone...Come and have a go…I could make your life hell right now if I wanted to...I’m not so helpless anymore…_

And part of him wanted, oh so badly, to not feel helpless. Vernon, Voldemort, adults in general were larger than Harry, stronger--in control of things he wasn’t. It wouldn’t be so bad to fight a fight where he had the upper hand. But Dudley’s gang, as satisfying as it might have been, wouldn’t have been worth it. 

Seeking a fight was not a smart move...he absolutely could not afford to use magic...he would be risking expulsion again…

That day, however, Harry was on his walk about the neighborhood and he did run into Dudley and his gang again. It was evening already so they were parting their ways and Harry only had to deal with his cousin. They argued, Harry struggling to keep his temper in check as they walked back, but all the same delighting in the rise of anger he was getting out of Dudley. 

“Not this brave at night, are you?” Dudley sneered. 

“This _is_ night, Diddkins. That’s what we call it when it goes all dark like this.” 

“I mean when you’re in bed!” Dudley snarled. 

He had stopped walking. Harry stopped too, staring at his cousin. From what he could see of Dudley's large face in the growing gloom, he was wearing a triumphant look. 

_Please don’t let him know the truth. Please let Vernon be the only one who wakes up. Dudley’s farther away...surely he doesn’t know too..._

“What d’you mean, I’m not brave in bed?” Harry said, gritting his teeth. “Think I’m afraid of my pillow or something? 

“I hear you at night,” Dudley said breathlessly. “Talking in your sleep, screaming. _Moaning._ ” 

_Screaming. The graveyard. Voldemort. Torture. Cedric._

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Harry said, turning around abruptly. 

Dudley gave a harsh back of laughter then adopted a high-pitched, whimpering voice, “‘Dad! Help me, Dad! Mum! He’s going to kill Cedric! Boo-hoo!’” 

“You have no idea what the bloody hell you’re talking about.” 

“‘Don’t kill cedric! Don’t kill Cedric!’ Who’s Cedric--your boyfriend?” 

Harry snapped. 

“Yeah! As a matter of fact he is!” He snarled, taking a step forward, his hand tightening around his wand in his pocket. “And you have no idea what you’re talking about Dudley!” 

Dudley just stared at him. It slowly dawned on Harry what, exactly, he had said. 

“You’re in for it now!” Dudley sneered, taking a step forward, embolden by the power he felt he held over Harry. “Oh Dad’ll give you something real to cry about at night now, we have a bloody _poofter_ living under our roof. Gonna cry out for your dead mum now, Potter? He’s going to--Don’t you point that thing at me!” 

Dudley backed into the alley wall. Harry was pointing his wand directly at Dudley’s heart. Harry felt fourteen years of festering hatred for Dudley pounding in his veins, mixing with his general frustration, urging him to lash out. What he wouldn’t have given to strike then, to let all that anger out. 

“Don’t you talk about that ever again,” Harry said, his voice flat and dangerous. “Not my parents, or the nightmares, or the graveyard, or Cedric! D’you understand me?” 

“Point that thing somewhere else!” 

“I said,” He tightened his grip, scowling. “Do you understand me?” 

“Point it somewhere else!” 

“ _Do you understand me?!”_

_“Get that thing away from--”_

Dudley gave an odd, shuddering gasp, as though he had been doused in icy water. The balmy summer evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. The sky went black and the lights went out, leaving them in pressing, almost suffocating, darkness and silence. For a split second Harry though perhaps he had done magic without meaning to, despite how much he had been holding back. 

But Harry did not possess the ability to darken the sky. 

And he was suddenly struck with the realization he was facing an unknown darkness. 

“W-what are you d-doing?” Dudley stuttered, “St-stop it! I’ll tell--” 

“I’m not doing anything! Shut up and don’t move!” 

Moments later, looking up, Harry knew what it was. A towering, hooded figure was gliding toward him, hovering over the ground, no feet of face visible beneath its robes. Stumbling backward, Harry raised his wand. 

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

A silvery wisp of thin vapour shot out from the tip of the wand. It wasn’t nearly enough; the dementor slowed but the spell had not worked properly. Harry retreated...tripping over his own feet...panic fogging his brain…

_Concentrate._

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

Another wisp, even feebler than the last. He couldn’t do it anymore, could feel the coldness sinking into his heart...into his soul…

There was laughter inside his own head, shrill, high-pitched laughter, the laughter of Death Eaters... his mother’s screams...the darkness of a cupboard...the darkness of his dreams...

_Think..think, something happy!_

But there was no happiness in him. The dementor’s icy fingers were closing on his throat, the laughter was growing louder, a cold voice spoke inside his head-- _“Bow to death, Harry…”_

...a leather belt smacking against the wall threateningly…the feeling of starvation…pain...Cedric’s screams...the graveyard...his mother, a flash of green....loved ones dying…

Love ones. He would never going to see them again...and their faces burst into his mind as he fought for breath, drowning in a sea of fear and darkness. 

Ron, grinning at him from across the dorm. Hermione, accepting him and loving him unconditionally. Remus, smiling as he spoke of Harry’s parents. Sirius, offering him a home. Cedric, holding him close…

_Cedric._

An ocean of happiness flowed into him, enveloped him like a shield, like a guardian. 

_“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”_

And into the darkness, burst a magnificent, enormous silver stag. 

* * *

Aunt Petunia screamed. 

“Phone the police, Vernon! Phone the police! Diddy, darling, speak to Mummy! What did they do to you?” 

In the commotion, nobody seemed to have noticed Harry, which was the ideal situation. He managed to slip inside just before Uncle Vernon slammed the door and while the Dursleys made their noise progress down the hall towards the kitchen, Harry moved carefully and quietly toward the stairs. 

“Who did it, son? Give us names. We’ll get them, don’t worry.” 

“Shh! He’s trying to say something, Vernon! What is it, Diddy? Tell Mummy!” 

Harry’s foot was on the bottommost stair when Dudley found his voice. 

_“Him.”_

Harry froze, foot on the stair, face screwed up, braced for the inevitable. 

“FREAK! COME HERE!” 

Against this familiar darkness, there was no helpful charm Harry could call up. 

_“‘Expecto Patronum,’”_ He thought to himself bitterly as he slowly removed his foot from the stair and turned, _“I await a guardian.”_

But no guardian came, and Harry was left to face a familiar darkness alone.


	2. What We Deserve

**Chapter 2: What We Deserve**

Cedric was walking back to his room in Grimmauld Place when the sound of raised voices caught his attention. Shouting was, generally, not a good thing where the Order was concerned. He slowed, not wanting to eavesdrop but knowing they weren’t likely to tell him what was going on if he didn’t. 

“Harry needs to stay put! He’s safestest there.” 

At Harry’s name Cedric stopped in his tracks, his heart sinking with dread. 

_ What happened? Oh Merlin, please tell me he’s okay... _ A brief memory of the attack Cedric survived earlier that summer flashed through his mind and he had to put his hand on the wall to steady himself.  _ No, no surely not. He’s supposed to be safe there, dammit, he’s supposed to be safe! _

“We need to tell Cedric,” that was his mother’s voice. 

“No, Thea,” and that was his father’s voice, “we can’t tell Cedric. He’ll want to rush off to see Harry. It isn’t safe.” 

Cedric scowled and, losing his patience, pushed open the door and walked in. Sirius, Remus, and his parents stared at him for a long, tense moment of silence. They were seated around the kitchen table--the meeting place for Order matters. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Cedric demanded tersely. 

“Cedric…” his mother’s voice was level, placating. 

“No, mum, dad,” Cedric crossed his arms defiantly, “I’ve let you all keep me out of the loop, even though I’m seventeen and I have every right to be fighting back too. I’ve even let you force me to stay away from Harry. I’m not backing down this time. What happened to Harry?” 

Sirius sighed, “Thea, Amos, I want to protect him just as much as you do, but Cedric has a right to hear this.” 

“Amos,” his mother rested a hand on his father’s arm. 

“Fine,” his father sighed, “Cedric, we can say with certainty that Harry is safe at his relatives. We have instructed him not to leave their property, where the wards on Privet Drive are strongest. But...early yesterday evening Harry was attacked by dementors. He was forced to conjure a Patronus in the presence of his muggle cousin, the Ministry wants to bring him in for a disciplinary hearing.” 

Almost tauntingly Cedric could hear Harry’s words echoing back to him from a half-forgotten letter, reminding him exactly of what Harry faced when it came to dementors. 

_ “I see my parents’ death.”  _

Cedric felt his knees go weak as the wave of anxiety and anger washed over him. He gripped onto the back of a chair, his knuckles turning white with tension, in an attempt to steady himself. Emotions, too many to handle, all clamoured for his attention. 

“You said he was safe there,” he growled, his voice tight. 

“He should have been,” Sirius said tiredly, running his finger through his hair. “Mundungus left his post.” 

“And  _ once again _ Harry was forced to fend for himself!” Cedric shouted, annoyed. All at once a series of revelations began to hit Cedric as his emotions caught up with his words, leaving him increasingly worried. “Yesterday evening?! Cedric scowled, wanting very badly to punch something or someone. “Has anyone actually heard from him since then?” The adults hesitated, giving him all the answers he needed, “You left him alone for almost twenty four hours! Someone needs to--” 

“Cedric,” his father’s voice was stern, though not unkind, “you need to let the Order handle this.” 

“I wrote to him three days ago!” Cedric snarled, leaning heavily on the kitchen table. “Don’t you think it’s just a  _ little  _ weird he didn’t write after the attack? You left him  _ alone  _ after he was attacked by  _ dementors  _ in a household with a history of abuse! I've been telling you all summer he should be hear, and you didn't listen to me. Look what happened because of that!”

“Cedric,” Remus said before he had a chance to continue, “Tonks and I will be with the Advance Guard. We’ll make sure he’s alright.” 

“When?” 

Sirius hesitated, “Three days Cedric.” 

“That’s not good enough.” 

“Cedric, we have to wait until everything is arranged,” Remus insisted, “We cannot risk exposing the Order.” 

_ Merlin save us from adults who think they are doing what is best for Harry,  _ Cedric grimaced. He looked around the table, and-- sensing little likelihood that Sirius and his father were going to sympathize with his position at all--reached a decision.  _ I’ll just take care of this myself.  _

“Well it’s a bloody good thing I’m not in the Order then,” Cedric stood, walking away from the table, “because someone needs to make sure he’s okay.” 

“Cedric,” Sirius stopped him, standing up abruptly and putting a hand on his shoulder, “We can’t risk moving Harry. I’m just as worried as you are Cedric, it’s eating me up inside. But it won’t do Harry any good if he gets caught between there and here. We have to be strong enough to wait and make sure he’s safe.” 

Cedric shrugged off the hand on his shoulder, “I’m going to Privet Drive and making sure  _ my soulmate _ is okay. If he’s not I’m calling the Night Bus and getting him the hell out of there.” 

His father frowned, “Cedric we can’t let you do that. What if--” 

_ What if you get attacked again?  _ Even unspoken, the words hung in the air. 

“You can’t stop me,” Cedric left the kitchen at a run, dashing up the stairs to get to his room. 

He was eternally thankful he had thought to prepare an emergency healing kit after he started basic first aid training that summer, while desperately hopeful Harry wouldn’t need it. 

“Cedric,” Remus was standing in the doorway, blocking his path. 

“Don’t try to--” 

“I’m not here to stop you,” Remus said quietly, “Have you ever even been to Little Whinging? You need someone side-along with. What if he’s hurt? You need someone with more Healing experience. What if you do get attacked,  _ again _ ? You need someone to watch your back.” 

Part of Cedric, a very spiteful part that was tired of having argued all summer long with no one listening to him, wanted to say no. A larger part of him, worried about Harry’s safety, knew that Remus was right. 

“Okay,” he said, “Let’s go.” 

* * *

Muggle neighborhoods, Cedric reflected as they walked down Privet Drive, were a bit like sardines. The houses were blocky, repetitious in their similarities, crammed together in long orderly lines. There was little variation between them. 

The house they finally stood before seemed disturbingly obsessed with blending into that monotonicity. It was unnervingly  _ normal _ . 

Steeling himself, Cedric walked up to the door, and knocked. Moments later a thin woman greeted them, smiling. It wasn’t a particularly warm or inviting smile; it was the kind of smile a person could tell at first glanced was precisely manufactured. It was a mask. 

“Hello,” Cedric greeted, “We’re here to see Harry. May--” 

“What do you want?” Her smile had fallen at Harry’s name. 

Remus stepped up beside him, “To see Harry, as was just pointed out.” 

She scowled, moving to close the door, “I’m afraid he’s away at the moment. Leave and do not come back, we don’t need anymore freakishness around here.” 

Cedric’s arm shot out to hold the door open, something in him snapping at the word  _ freak.  _

_ Is that what you called him?  _ Cedric wondered.  _ When he was small and wanted nothing more than to be loved did you push him away and taunt him? Did you teach him to define that hateful word as being synonymous with his own name?  _

“You’re lying,” he said, his voice flat. 

“Tuny?” A deeper voice, a man’s, came from within the house, somewhere upstairs, “Who is it?” 

Hesitantly, Petunia Dursley stepped aside, allowing them to step into the entrance hall, “It’s... _ them, _ ” she called back, her voice cold and trembling, “They want to see the boy.” 

Distantly Cedric heard a clicking sound, almost like someone was locking a bunch of things up. Heavy footsteps left upstairs and pounded towards them, heralding the approach of a whale of a man, presumably Harry’s uncle. Vernon Dursley stared at them with beady little black eyes, narrowed almost to slits, his purplish face contorted with anger. 

Cedric stared at him, waves of overwhelming rage hitting him somewhere in the center of his chest. He could not look at the man before him and not see the horrible latticework of scars that covered Harry’s back. Nevermind if this man had not hurt Harry recently, he had  _ hurt Harry.  _ Cedric’s hand tightened around his wand, his mind supplying him with a list of various hexes in a heartbeat. 

“Out of my house!” Vernon Dursley shouted, waving an arm, “This instant, or I’ll call the police on you!” 

Neither Cedric nor Remus moved. 

“We will leave,” Remus said cooly, “once we are certain of your nephew’s safety. As you are aware he recently experienced a rather dangerous attack.” 

If possible, Vernon looked angrier, “Leave this instant!” He shouted, waving a finger at them, “I’ll not reward the boy when--” 

“Perhaps you should call Harry down from his room,” Remus suggested, unflinching. 

“I won’t--” 

“You will!” Cedric snapped, drawing his wand and pointing it at the man’s chest. Vernon flinched. “Do you have  _ any  _ idea how much I would do to protect Harry?” 

“You...you can’t do  _ magic  _ outside your freaky school!” 

Remus smiled amicably, still standing by with his hands in his pockets as if this was a perfectly normal conversation, “Ah, but see that’s the thing, isn’t it. Cedric’s seventeen, he can do magic outside of school. And I,” something dangerous flashed in his eyes and Cedric was suddenly reminded that the man was a werewolf, “have been a fully grown and trained wizard for many years. It might be in your best interest to let us see Harry.” 

Vernon paled, gulping. Behind him Petunia Dursley cowered, as if her husband could protect her. “I, uh, he’s...I can’t…” 

“Wrong answer,” Remus drew his wand from his robes, pointing it out in front of him,  _ “Homenum Revelio.”  _

The Dursleys flinched as if they expected the spell to kill them. A moment later Vernon recovered, looking as though he might burst with rage like an angry pimple, “I’ll not have that freakishness here!” 

“For your sake,” Remus said coldly, making his way to the stares and repocketing his wand, “I do hope Harry is simply taking a nap.” 

“Are you threatening me in my own house?” 

“I am.” 

Cedric followed the older wizard without a word, shooting one last glare back at the Dursleys. They walked silently up the stairs, down a hallway covered with family photos--Harry was deliberately missing from all of them--and down to the second bedroom door. Both Remus and Cedric paused, staring at the door with anger. 

It had a cat flap in the bottom, and no less than a dozen locks bolted on to the side. 

Remus tried knocking. There was no response. Remus tried to open the door. The locks were shut tight. 

_ “Alohomora!”  _ He incanted through gritted teeth, dismantling the locks. 

The door opened. Cedric almost wished it hadn’t. 

To say the tiny room was shabby was an understatement, especially after seeing the rest of the house. It didn’t look unnaturally clean, but it barely looked fit to be a bedroom at all. Hedwig sat on the desk, locked up in her cage, shifting restlessly. 

_ They cut him off... _ Cedric though, distantly staring at the bird for a moment,  _ from any support. He must have been so scared... _

Harry lay on the sheets covering the bed, curled up tightly on his side. He was shirtless, exposing the horror of his injuries. He was thinner than he had been at the beginning of summer, his skin tight over lean muscles. Bruises to numerous to count, ranging from sickly yellows to angry blacks and purples, spattered his skin and his back...dozens of red welts overlapped the old scars. Some of them had broken the skin. Some of them were extremely fresh. He whimpered softly as they entered but did not turn to see who they were. 

Cedric’s free hand tightened painfully into a fist at his side, something deep and primal within him wanting to hunt down Harry’s uncle and blast him with every curse he knew. A wave of rage, followed closely and replaced by overwhelming concern, then guilt and...a pang of hurt…

Harry lied to him. 

_ Why did I listen? Why didn’t I insist? Why didn’t I check myself? Oh...Merlin, Harry...you never deserved this... _

Cedric turned away, breathing deeply and trying to steady himself. He could feel the anxiety building tightly in his chest, and he couldn’t afford to let it overwhelm him then. Remus looked at him, and Cedric saw his own rage mirrored in the man’s expression.

“I’m gonna kill them,” he managed to say, his words caught on the tightness of his breath. 

Remus stopped him from walking away, holding Cedric’s shoulder tightly and shaking his head, “ _ Harry _ needs us now Cedric.  _ They  _ will get what they deserve in due time. Don’t let your anger overcome your love for Harry.” 

Slowly Cedric nodded, turning away from the door...and back to Harry. He crossed the room in fast, deliberate sides, rushing to the side of the bed. Harry screwed his eyes shut as he approached, whimpering. Cedric reached out gently, crouching and brushing Harry’s hair away from his forehead. 

The shadows under Harry’s eyes sent another pang of regret into Cedric’s heart. It didn’t seem like the younger boy had gotten a proper night of sleep since they had left Hogwarts. Cedric wasn’t the only between them struggling with nightmares. 

“Harry…” he said softly, gently running his hand through his dark hair. Distantly he could hear Remus incanting a diagnostic spell. “Harry it’s me. It’s Cedric. You’re safe now Harry.” 

“Cedric?” Harry’s voice was hoarse, small. Desperately hopeful. 

“Yeah Harry,” Cedric’s voice broke. He reached and held Harry’s hand in his own, feeling utterly helpless and inadequate. 

_ You told me you were okay! They told me you were safe!  _ He wanted to shout at someone, anyone really. But Harry needed him to be stronger than that, and so he did. 

“I…” Harry stared at him. Unspoken words hung in the space between them. 

“I know, Harry,” Cedric said softly, “It’s going to be alright now.” 

“Harry?” Remus’ voice was clearly steady only through sheer willpower; Cedric could hear the undercurrent emotions running beneath it. “Cedric and I are going to perform several first aide spells before we move you. It might feel a little weird at first.” 

“ ‘mkay,” Harry mumbled, “I’m tired Cedric…” 

“Try to stay awake, Harry,” Remus said gently, “You have a concussion. I don’t want you to fall asleep until we heal you a bit.” 

Harry only nodded in response. 

Cedric stood, turning to Remus, “What do you need me to do?” 

“Help him lie on his stomach,” Remus said. Once they had accomplished that, Cedric biting his lip as Harry grimaced in pain, Remus drew his wand and traced a large circle around the worst of Harry’s injuries,  _ “Oblivisci Dolorem.”  _

Harry sighed in relief as the pain-numbing spell took effect, his muscles slowly relaxing. For a handful of minutes Remus continued to incant spells, healing the worst of the welts, bruises, and Harry’s concussion. Cedric took the healing balm and gently rubbed it into the injuries as the spells took affect, hoping against hope they had spared Harry from acquiring even more scars…

Merlin, why did Harry have so many scars? 

By the end of it Harry was able to sit up, though he still looked like he might fall over if he tried to stand. Cedric couldn’t stand the distance between them any longer; gently he sat back down on the bed next to Harry and wrapped his arms around the younger boy. Harry stiffened, then heartbeats later relaxed into the touch, trembling softly. With Harry finally safely held close, Cedric let go a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding all summer. 

Every time he woke up from a nightmare, alone, all he had wanted was the ability to reach out and hold his soulmate close; to know with certainty that Harry was okay. Now...Harry  _ wasn’t  _ okay, but he was alive, and Cedric could protect him. Harry melted into the embrace, burying his face against Cedric’s chest. Cedric breathed in deeply, immersing himself in a familiar scent of earth and peppermint...

“Right,” Remus said, taking a deep breath, “Cedric, help Harry get dressed and packed. I’m going to...have a chat with the Dursleys.” He made their family name sound like an insult. 

“Packed?” Harry stared at them in confusion. 

“We’re leaving, Harry,” Cedric said firmly, standing up, “You’re  _ never  _ returning to this place.” 

Harry blinked in surprise. For a moment he struggled to speak, his mouth opening and closing, then, softly, he muttered, “My wand.” 

“Your wand?” Remus repeated. 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “my uncle has it. Afraid I was going to curse Dudley.” 

Remus scowled, “I’ll get it back,” he muttered, marching out of the room. 

Cedric and Harry were left alone to pack Harry’s things, which they did in near total silence. There was a tension between them that could not be ignored, and it seemed to grow and build with every moment. As Cedric was finished with the last of it he found himself turning to the desk, staring at the open parchment on top of it. 

It was a half-written letter to Cedric. 

_ My Dear Cedric,  _

_ As always, I begin by offering you a simple promise; I am okay. I am safe here.  _

It began, like every letter to Cedric over the summer, with a lie. 

“You told me you were okay,” Cedric said through gritted teeth, his hands tightening around the parchment. His words threatened to catch on the tears fighting to tear free from his chest. “You  _ promised  _ me.” 

Harry shook his head, carefully pulling his shirt back on, “I’m sorry Cedric. This...this isn’t your fault. I lied to you. I just...I couldn’t risk…you must be so angry I didn’t mean to...” he trailed off, burying his face in his hands. 

_ He’s trying to hide the tears,  _ Cedric realized belatedly.  _ He’s  _ still  _ taking this on himself.  _

“Harry,” Cedric stared at his soulmate, cursing his own anger and his inability to let it go, willing Harry to let him back in. “I’m not angry with you. I forgive you, I will always forgive you. I wish I knew why you lied to me, but I don’t blame you for any of this.” 

_ You don't deserve my anger...and the people I do blame are going to hear  _ exactly  _ how I feel.. _

“I was safe there, I was okay,” Harry muttered. “This,” he gestured to the room, “isn’t anything new to me. Cedric. Voldemort...Voldemort’s out there. I’ve got a target on my back, Cedric. I was...I was protected there, at least, from that. I...I hate that you’re in danger near me.” 

“Harry,” Cedric said softly, setting down the letter and sitting down next to his boyfriend. He reached, intertwined their fingers, and the cloth covering Harry’s soulmark brushed against his skin, a soft reminder of the depth of the bond between them. “I think we’ve already had this conversation. This is my fight too, Harry. If it means putting myself in danger to protect you, let me make that choice.” 

They sat beside each other on the bed in silence for a moment, staring intently at each other. Cedric reached out instinctually, brushing hair away from Harry’s forehead. His hand drifted down the side of Harry’s face to gently cup his cheek, and Harry leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering close. 

“Okay.” 

Cedric wasn’t sure who leaned in first. His hands moved to frame Harry’s face, pulling him closer. It seemed, all at once, that any space between them was unbearable. Cedric’s lips met Harry’s, first gently, then forcefully, somewhat desperately, as the kiss deepened with passion. The tempo of his beating heart quickened, thudding with the forcefulness of the emotions that surged through each nerve in his body. 

Each and every of the soft touches that passed between them were silent promises, left unspoken but not unheard. They both needed every reassurance, in that moment, that they were both alive. Cedric felt the lingering shadows in his mind, left behind from his nightmares, momentarily banished to the deeper corner of his consciousness. 

Harry was there. Harry was going to be okay. 

Cedric rested his forehead against Harry’s, softly closing his eyes and soaking in his soulmates presence for a moment. It felt not unlike he had been missing a limb all summer long, and was now whole once more. Harry’s hand clutched his tightly, almost painfully, but Cedric was distantly aware he was holding on even tighter. 

“I missed you Cedric.” 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Cedric said softly, “I should have never left you alone for so long. I...I missed you too. I love you.” 

“Love you too Cedric,” Harry sighed, “I’m so tired Cedric.” 

“I know,” Cedric pressed a gentle kiss to Harry’s forehead and helped the younger boy to his feet. “We can rest when we get home.” 

“Home?” Harry asked, clearly confused. “Where’s home?” 

Cedric scowled at the house surrounding them, “Certainly not here.” 

Remus came back a moment later, handing Harry his wand immediately. The older wizard then drew two vials of potion from his robes, “Polyjuice,” he explained, “Best not to draw attention to ourselves.” 

Harry stared at the man for a moment, indecipherable emotions contorting his face, “Remus, what did you...do to them?” 

“Nothing they didn’t deserve.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone out there interested in potentially betaing this story? I haven't had a beta so far but I would like to maintain the quality of this story. If you are, please comment!


	3. A Star

**Chapter 3: A Star**

The grimy front of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering mutely in the dull light of the evening sun, paint was peeling from many of the doors, and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.

“Where are we?” Harry asked quietly as he felt the Polyjuice begin to wear off. The waves of emotion that had been fighting for his attention since Cedric and Remus arrived at Privet drive were finally starting to catch up with him. He wasn’t sure he’d still be on his feet without Cedric supporting him. 

“Just a moment,” Remus said, rummaging around in his satchel bag. “Borrowed it from Dumbledore. Moody’ll have our heads if we loiter about, read it quick and memorize.”

Harry took the piece of parchment, confused. The narrow handwriting was vaguely familiar. It said: _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found_ _at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

“What’s the Order of--” 

“Not outside, Harry!” Remus said sharply, looking alarmed. 

“But where’s…?” 

“Think about what you’ve just memorized,” Cedric said softly. 

Harry did, and no sooner had he reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, than a battered door emerged out nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. Moments later Remus was tapping sharply on the door with his wand and Cedric was ushering him inside to a dark hallway. 

He heard a soft hissing noise and then old-fashioned gaw lamps sputtered into life all along the walls, casting a flickering, insubstantial light over the gloomy space. It was only then reality--he had really left that hellhole--began to set in. 

There were hurried footsteps and Sirius emerged from a door at the far end of the hall, followed closely by Cedric’s parents. All three of them looked alarmed, surprised, and concerned for a moment, Harry wasn’t sure they had been expecting him. He noticed Cedric’s parents looked...older, paler than they had been a month ago. 

“Sirius,” Harry said weakly, managing a smile for his godfather. 

“Oh, Harry,” Sirius whispered. He seemed to fly across the hallway to reach them, and Harry found himself leaving Cedric’s support to be enveloped in his godfather’s embrace. It was incredible to finally relax--to feel human touch not quickly followed by pain. 

“I missed you,” Harry’s voice caught on his breath, and he desperately tried to avoid devolving into tears. 

“Harry…” Sirius broke apart, looking at him intently, “I missed you so much it  _ ached _ . I’m so sorry we left you there. If we had...if I had known...I--” 

“I know,” Harry said softly, “I’m sorry Sirius.” 

“No, kiddo,” Sirius said sadly, “You are not among the people who need to apologize.” 

Harry turned, seeing his boyfriend conversing quietly with his parents. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory looked regretful, and when they met his gaze smiled kindly. A moment later Mrs. Weasley appeared, and the hug that enveloped him was significantly more gentle than the rib-cracking one he had been expecting. 

“Oh Harry, it’s so lovely to see you! You’re looking peaky, dinner is in an hour dear, until then…” 

“Come on Harry,” Cedric walked over and wrapped an arm around him in support, “You need a nap.” Harry followed his soulmate gratefully, unnerved by the quiet, but darkly serious, concern in the eyes of the adults. Cedric led him upstairs to a bedroom with a single bed. 

“Cedric, where are we?” He asked tiredly, sitting down beside him. 

Cedric sighed, “This is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.” 

“Which is…?” 

“A sort of secret society founded by Dumbledore during the last war to fight Voldemort,” Cedric explained seriously. “My parents joined after--well, at the beginning of the summer. I’m not allowed, nor at the twins for that matter, to join until I’m out of school.” 

Harry stared at him for a long moment, various emotions clamouring for his attention. On one hand, it was a relief to know there was some kind of organized resistance going on. It was also a relief to know that Cedric, at least for the moment, was being kept away from the frontlines of such a fight. But he recognized the frustration in Cedric’s voice, he had felt it all summer. This was what they had been hiding in their letters, whether they wanted to or not. 

“Oh,” he said finally, “So that’s…” 

“Yeah,” Cedric nodded, “Hermione and Ron are here too. We can go see them now, if you like, though to be honest you look like you’re about to pass out.” 

Harry yawned, “I’m tired. I don’t…” 

“You don’t have to talk to anyone about anything you don’t want to,” Cedric said softly, “even me, until you’re ready. Why don’t you just lie down for a bit?” Brushing the hair across Harry’s forehead gently to the side he added, “I’ll be right here.” 

“Okay,” Harry said tiredly, not possessing the energy to argue. 

Nestled within Cedric’s arms, far away from the Dursleys, Harry found himself drifting off to sleep in minutes. And, for the first time in weeks, he did not return to the graveyard in his dreams. His sleep was peaceful, restful, if brief. 

Soon he was being shaken gently awake, a gentle voice murmuring softly in his ear, “Harry, love,” Cedric said. “Wake up. Hermione and Ron will want to see you before dinner.” 

“Mmhmm,” Harry sighed, leaning deeper into Cedric’s warmth. “M’ tired.” 

“I know Harry,” Cedric sat up, softly pulling Harry up with him. “But you need to talk to your friends, and eat, then get a proper night of rest.” 

Harry yawned, stretching, and turned to see Cedric smiling at him fondly. He grinned, leaning in and pressing a small kiss to Cedric’s cheek. The combination of sleepiness and overwhelming relief was making him a bit giddy. 

“Have I ever told you,” he said softly, happiness blooming in his chest with such forcefulness it made him grin widely, “how beautiful you are?” 

_ You’re incredible Cedric… _

“No,” Cedric smiled, standing up with Harry and pulling him into a loose embrace, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s forehead. Sparks of feelings jumped through Harry’s nerves at the touch, and he was suddenly struck by exactly how  _ whole  _ he felt near Cedric, and exactly how much he had missed his soulmate. “But I’m sure I can’t be half as beautiful as my boyfriend.” 

“Flatterer,” Harry chuckled as Cedric interlaced their fingers, pulling him along and down the hall to another door. 

He swallowed, hesitant to reach out and knock. He had yearned to see them for weeks, for hours on end. Now they were  _ there _ \--no more than a handful of steps away from him. Now he was suddenly struck by a wave of uncertainty, trepidation. 

Cedric’s fingers tightened around his own reassuringly, “I won’t let them push you, and they won’t to begin with,” he said softly, “Sirius and some Order members know, at least vaguely. Remus had to report to justify what we did taking you out early. Everyone is furious Harry, but not with you. They had to hold back Arthur Weasley and your godfather from storming back there. I believe Mad-Eye Moody volunteered to go along with them. Remus told me about it while you were sleeping.” 

Harry grimaced, unsure how he felt about more people knowing the truth, but feeling strangely lighter. It was as though someone had removed a physical burden he had been carrying all his life, and only in the absence of it could he realize how much he had been straining to go on. 

“It’s okay, I think,” his voice sounded strangely distant and foreign to his ear, “I..I’m okay, I think.” 

“It’s okay not to be okay,” Cedric said softly. “Just...always remember we all care about you Harry, a great deal. We’re here--I’m here.” 

Harry nodded and turned the bedroom doorknob, which was shaped like a serpent’s head, and opened the door. He caught only a brief glimpse of a gloomy high-ceilinged room before there was a loud shriek and his vision was completely obscured by a large quantity of very bushy hair. Hermione had thrown herself at him with a hug that nearly knocked him flat. Thankfully, with the potions Remus had given in his system, it didn’t hurt. 

Harry was struck by the sudden realization that this was the least amount of pain he had been in for weeks, maybe for months...years? 

“HARRY! Ron, he’s here, Harry’s here! We didn’t hear you two arrive! How long have you been here? Oh, how are you? Are you alright? Merlin, Harry, you look awful, what happened? Have you been furious with us? I bed you have, I know our letters were useless--but we couldn’t tell you anything, Dumbledore made us wear we wouldn’t, oh we’ve got so much to tell you, and you’ve got to tell us--” 

“Hermione,” Cedric said, grinning as he closed the door behind them. “Give Harry a chance to breathe, please.” 

Hermione, still beaming, let go of Harry, but before she could say another word there was a soft whooshing sound and something white soared from the top of a dark wardrobe and landed gently on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Hedwig!” 

The snowy owl clicked her beach and nibbled his ear affectionately as Harry stroked her feathers. Seeing her happy, free from the cage Vernon had locked her in, brought a smile to his lips. 

“Harry…” Hermione began hesitantly. “We wrote to you after the Dementors, but Hedwig never came back with replies. What happened?” 

Harry bit his lip, not meeting his friend's gaze. Cedric squeezed his hand reassuringly, an unspoken vow of confidence and support. For a moment he wrestled with his own thoughts, searching for a lie or a half-truth and finding it difficult to articulate any. 

“Er,” He sighed, deciding the truth was ultimately easiest. “My uncle locked her in. I would have written, believe me, I wanted answers but I...couldn’t.” 

Ron and Hermione’s eyes darkened.

Ron spoke first, his voice laced with concern, “He locked you in like Second Year, didn’t he?” 

“Something like that,” Harry muttered. 

“Oh Harry, that’s horrible,” Hermione cried, pulling him back into a short, softer hug. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t give you answers, I thought you might do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news and Cedric pestered them daily, but Dumbledore made us--” 

“Swear not to tell me,” Harry said. “Yeah, Cedric mentioned that.” 

“He seemed to think it was best,” said Hermione rather breathlessly. “Dumbledore, I mean.” 

Angered flashed behind Cedric’s eyes and he threw his arms up in the air, annoyed, “Right,” Cedric said scornfully. “Because we’ve all been attacked by dementors loads of times this summer! And…” He trailed off, meeting Harry’s gaze, and growled with frustration. 

“Well, no,” Hermione interjected softly. “But that’s why he’s had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing Harry all this time--” 

“And that did loads of good when it counted, didn’t it?” Cedric said, failing to keep his voice even. “Wouldn’t even let  _ me  _ leave this place alone, but in the end Harry had to look after himself  _ again.  _ I had to fight to even--” 

“Cedric…” Harry walked over, resting a hand on the older boy’s shoulder. 

He felt exhaustion weighing at him as the conversation wore on. The conversation turned back to the letters and Dumbledore and he suddenly felt a spring of anger welling up in his chest, something he thought he had left behind. His mood abruptly swung from resigned and tired to angry. Suddenly all his frustration piled up, breaking some restraint within him, and he was shouting. 

They were staring at them, all three of them, with concern. Hermione looked on the verge of tears, and Cedric looked as though Harry’s words were physically paining him. Abruptly Harry stopped shouting and belatedly realized he was hyperventilating. 

“Harry…” Hermione’s voice was breaking, catching on her breath, “We’re sorry.” 

“Harry, you need to breathe,” Cedric said softly, leading him to sit down on the edge of a bed. Harry was shaking, anxiety seizing the air in his lungs, rippling through his body in nervous tremors. “Deep breaths Harry, with me, in and out,” Harry found himself grounding to the sound of Cedric’s voice, breathing deeper. Slowly the panic faded. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, wiping away the tears indignantly. 

Ron and Hermione were at his side in a heartbeat, joining them on the side of the bed.

“Mate, really,” Ron rested a hand on his shoulder. “We didn’t want it to be like this.” 

“We’re worried about you,” Hermione added softly. “Harry, honestly, you look horrible. What happened this summer?” 

_ What didn’t happen this summer?  _

Incessant nightmares, so much he could barely close his eyes without seeing flashes of green burned into his vision. Physical pain, beatings, abuse he knew how to survive--but it was so exhausting to survive sometimes. Lists of chores. Loneliness, broken only by letters that spoke of nothing of consequence. A complete lack of restful sleep, compounding everything. 

Harry took a deep breath, meeting the gaze of his older friends, “Some...things that I’m not ready to talk about yet, Hermione. I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, Harry,” she smiled at him. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Ron nodded in agreement and Cedric tightened his grip on Harry’s hand. In moments Harry found himself surrounded by three warm bodies, crushing him for a moment in a tight group hug. 

He let himself relax into the embrace, let go of another bit of anxiety left over from the summer. They were really there, he was really there and everything...somehow...was going to be alright. They were going to be there to help him through it. 

“Thanks,” He said softly, looking around the room for a minute after they sat back down. 

Talk turned to be about the Order, the three of them filling Harry in on what they knew and couldn’t put in letters. It wasn’t a complete picture by any means, but they had at least  _ some  _ information to give him, and that was more than Harry had for weeks. Eventually the twins and Ginny showed up. They told him Bill and Charlie were both in the Order, but Percy was best left unmentioned at dinner after the argument he had with Mr. Weasley.

Cedric’s steadying presence didn’t move an inch as they talked, and Harry found himself focusing on that when the exhaustion and anxiety threatened to overwhelm him. 

“Dinner’s ready, you can come down now, everyone’s dying to see you Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, appearing in the bedroom doorway. “And who’s left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?” 

“Crookshanks,” Ginny lied, concealing earlier attempts to find out if the kitchen door was warded. There had been an emergency Order meeting called with the members present in the house. “He loves playing with them.” 

As they made their way downstairs they kept their voices hushed. The gloomy hallway below was packed with witches and wizards, including Harry’s guard and Cedric’s parents. There was a horrible portrait of an old woman on the wall, shouting. 

“Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut up!” Sirius’ familiar voice roared, seizing the curtains surrounding her frame. With Remus’ help he managed to cover the portrait, turning immediately to see Harry. 

“Hello, Harry,” he said grimly. “I see you’ve met my mother.” 

There was something darker in his godfather’s gaze, sadder.  _ He heard the full report from Remus _ , Harry realised. Harry walked towards him and his godfather enveloped him in another hug. 

“I’m so sorry we left you at that...horrible place. We’ll talk properly tomorrow, after you get a good sleep, yeah?” Sirius said softly into Harry’s hair.

“Okay.” 

The basement kitchen was hardly less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Mrs. Weasley hugged him again, this time a bit weepy, and Harry found it wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be to accept her concern. After he sat down, Mungundus Fletcher offered Harry an apology; Cedric scowled at the man with vehemence. 

Everyone gathered for dinner and Harry happily dug into his first proper meal, suddenly aware of how hungry he was. Talk was limited to less serious subjects, but Harry was grateful for a while to be around people that weren’t looking at him like he was vermin. 

He didn’t miss the soft glances everyone, even Mad-Eye Moody--who knew that man could sympathetically glance at anyone--were shooting his direction. It felt odd to have people concerned about him, but it was certainly a change for the better. 

After dinner Sirius tried to tell Harry more about the Order and Voldemort, but was quickly shut down by Mrs. Weasleys, to Harry’s increased frustration. It set off a fight between the two, and it was really on Cedric’s steadying hand on his shoulder that kept Harry from marching out of the room. To Harry’s surprise, Mr. Diggory came to their defense, arguing that he and Cedric, of anyone, had a right to know. 

Eventually Mrs. Weasley relented that Harry could ask some questions--prompting Cedric, Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione to all argue their way into staying. In the end Mrs. Weasley only got Ginny away from the table. 

“Okay, Harry...what do you want to know?” 

Harry took a deep breath, “Where’s Voldemort? What’s he doing? I’ve been trying to watch the Muggle news,” he ignored the winces at the name--Cedric had been one of the few that didn’t react, “and there hasn’t been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything--” 

“That’s because there haven’t been any suspicious deaths yet,” Sirius said, “not as far as we know, anyway...And we know quite a lot.” 

“More than he thinks we do anyway,” Remus said. 

“How come he’s stopped killing people?” 

“Because he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself at the moment,” Sirius said. “It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn’t come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up.” 

“Or rather, you two messed it up for him,” Remus said, pointing at Harry and Cedric with a satisfied smile. 

“How?” 

“We weren’t supposed to survive,” Cedric said quietly.

Sirius nodded, “Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he’s come back. But you survived to bear witness. You two changed the course of everything, really.” 

Talk turned to the Order plans to ensure Voldemort wouldn’t be able to recruit more Death Eaters and build up his arm. The Ministry, unsurprisingly but frustratingly, was refusing to believe what was happening, even refused to listen to a public statement from Cedric. 

Sirius wanted to tell Harry more, but was again shut down by Mrs. Weasley. One by one Harry’s friends stood up, and Harry, recognizing defeat, followed suit. 

* * *

After breakfast the next morning Sirius pulled Harry aside. The walls of the room they walked into were covered in an immense, old tapestry. It was faded and torn through in spots; nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted grightly enough to show a sprawling family tree dating back hundreds of years. 

“You’re not on here,” Harry observed, scanning the names. 

“I used to be there,” Sirius said softly, pointing at a small, round charred hold in the tapestry. “My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home.” 

“You ran away from home?” 

“When I was about sixteen,” Sirius said. “Not much older than you are now. I’d had enough.” 

“Where did you go?” Harry asked, staring at him.

“Your dad’s place,” Sirius said. “Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. I was always welcome there, and Harry,” Sirius turned to face him, looking at him with a steady, intent, gaze, “You will always be welcome wherever I call home. Harry…” He trailed off. 

Harry looked away, unable to meet the concern in his godfather’s gaze, “Sirius, I don’t...I don’t know what any of you expect me to say. Yeah, it happened. Yeah, it wasn’t great. But I...I knew how to survive it.” 

“Oh, Harry,” Sirius said softly, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You should never have had to. I should have been there for you, as a godfather, years ago. It breaks my heart knowing what I left you too. I would do anything to change the past.” 

“But you can’t,” Harry said softly, finally turning to meet Sirius’ eyes. 

“No, I can’t,” Sirius agreed. “All I can do is hope you find some happiness in all this darkness, Harry. We all have to find some way to keep living, really living, or he’s already won half the battle. We can’t let him take this away from us too. And I promise you as long as I draw breath you will never step foot... _ there _ again.” 

Numbly, Harry nodded, “But what if they do expel me, Sirius? Can I come back here and live with you?” 

Sirius smiled sadly, “Of course, Harry. You’ll stay here for Christmas, too, if you want.” 

“I’d like that.” 

When Sirius reached to pull him into a hug, Harry did not flinch or pull away. It was nice, comforting in a way his friends and even Cedric’s hugs couldn’t be. The reality of never returning to the Dursleys was slowly dawning on Harry, and the future felt brighter than it had in a long time.

“Harry…” Sirius trailed off. “How are you? With everything. You said you were still having nightmares?” 

“Yes,” Harry said softly. “Just...normal nightmares though. It’s the same one, all the time. The graveyard...Cedric dying…not last night though,” a half-smile twitched at his lips as he thought of Cedric.

Thankfully, there hadn't been too many protests when Cedric and Harry asked if Harry could stay in Cedric’s room. The Diggorys didn’t object to the arrangement,and Mrs. Weasley relented when Sirius pointed out Harry could really use the comfort of his soulmate with everything that had happened. So, with the twins next door under strict supervision to  _ chaperone  _ them, Harry moved into the shared room. 

“Last night was the first good sleep I’ve had in ages.” 

“Cedric makes you happy,” Sirius stated plainly. 

Harry nodded, “He does.” 

“That’s good,” Sirius smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “It’s good to have the people that make us happy near.” 

“What about you, Sirius?” Harry asked, turning to his godfather. 

“I’m cooped up like a hamster,” Sirius growled in frustration. “I wouldn’t mind if I could just get out occasionally and do something useful.” 

“Hmm,” Harry looked at him steadily. “What about what makes you happy?” 

“Ah,” Sirius smiled at him, “Well, I’m afraid the kind of happiness you’ve found, Harry, isn’t really on the table for me anymore. With circumstances..the way they are...” 

Harry shrugged, “You never know, Sirius. Cedric and I didn’t exactly figure things out under the best of circumstances either.” 

Sirius chuckled, “No, I suppose you didn’t. There’s only one person I’ve really ever...thought about like that though. Me and Remus though...we decided a long time ago it wasn’t feasible until Voldemort was gone. Then, well I got thrown in Azkaban, and now…” 

Harry stared at his grandfather, “You and Remus?” 

Sirius nodded, pulling up the left sleeves of his robes to reveal a red strip of cloth, “Me and Remus. Happened during an Order mission...last time. Like I said, with everything going on, we’ve decided it’s not the right time.” 

“Maybe that’s all the more reason for it,” Harry said, turning back to the tapestry thoughtfully, “because of everything that’s going on.” 

“Maybe.” 

* * *

It was so much easier to rest when he could hear Cedric’s heartbeat. Harry lay awake the night before his trial, just listening to it. Low, soft, strong, steady. Alive. Cedric wasn’t the lifeless corpse that haunted Harry’s nightmares; he was warm and safe and strong and  _ there.  _

And that was enough. 

It wasn’t enough to banish the darkness from the world completely, just as no Patronus was strong enough to ride the world of dementors. Cedric’s presence encompassed Harry in a feeling of safety and love, protecting him from the worst of the darkness. Like a Patronus, it was a shield...a guardian. 

It held the night at bay, and that was enough. 

“Harry?” Cedric’s voice was hushed. 

“Hmmm?” Harry’s voice was muffled against Cedric’s chest. 

“You’re still awake.” 

“Can’t sleep,” he admitted. New anxiety had sprung forth with thoughts of his impending trial, “Worried about tomorrow.” 

“Me too. At least...at least it’s not the nightmares keeping us awake right now.” 

Harry grimaced, “Somehow I doubt they’re gone.” 

“No,” Cedric said softly. “What...happened that night is never going to leave us. Some things are too horrible to forget. Some wounds are too deep to heal unnoticed, they leave scars,” then his voice turned bitter. “It just makes it worse with people not listening. I wish...I wish there was some way to actually convey to them how...brutal surviving that was.” 

_ The press is always like that Cedric... _

Harry sighed, “There’s not, Cedric. When people want to talk, they talk. When people are scared, they’ll talk about anything to distract them from the truth. They won’t listen, not yet at least. I’m sorry I dragged you into all this.”

“Harry James Potter don’t you dare apologize for that,” Cedric said sternly, “It’s not your fault.” 

“I know, I just...I wish you didn’t have to deal with this.” 

“I’m just glad you’re not dealing with it on your own,” Cedric’s fingers ran softly through Harry’s perpetually messy hair. The touch was comforting, like the heartbeat, a reminder of Cedric’s presence, “it hurts to be apart. To wake...having seen you die, and not be able to hold you close. I love you so much Harry.” 

“I’m here,” Harry tightened his fingers around Cedric’s hand, interlacing their fingers, “Love you too.” 

In the soft darkness of the night that hung over the room, Cedric pressed a soft kiss against Harry’s forehead, “I can’t...I can’t promise everything’s going to be okay, but I’ll be here every step of the way. I promise.” 

“I’m not going anywhere either,” Harry said softly, leaning into Cedric’s touch. “I promise.” 

_ Promises we can’t be sure we'll keep… _

But that was what had carried them through the tournament, wasn’t it? A promise neither one of them was could be sure they could keep. It was less of a promise than a prayer, at that point, wasn’t it? Just a word of faith they could cling to, a single star in the dark sky to follow. 

And what is love, if not a promise built on faith? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested in betaing this series, please comment!


	4. Summer's End

**Chapter 4: Summer's End**

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Cedric said, pulling Harry into a tight embrace as he told them the news. 

“I knew it! Ron yelled, punching the air. “You always get away with stuff!”

“They were bound to clear you,” Hermione said, who had looked quite anxious that morning and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes. “There was no case against you, none at all…” 

“Everyone seems quite relieved though, considering they all knew I’d get off,” Harry grinned. 

Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went, _“He got off, he got got off, he got off--”_

“That’s enough, settle down!” Mr. Weasley shouted, though he was also smiling. “Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry--” 

As his ear caught that name something within Cedric went cold, washing over the giddy happiness that had filled him with the result of Harry’s hearing. It was all too hard to hear that name and remember laughter...cold laughter...screams...a ring of men in dark cloaks…

“What?” Sirius said sharply. 

_“He got off, he got off, he got off--”_

“Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge’s office together. Dumbledore ought to know.” 

“Absolutely, don’t worry.” 

Cedric walked away frustrated to join Harry and the other’s for lunch. Slowly, the happiness returned and he found himself celebrating with the rest of them. Harry seemed giddy with relief, though a bit bitter that Dumbledore was ignoring him. Cedric’s fingers found his soulmate’s under the table and held his hand, comforting both of them. 

Abruptly Harry’s demeanor changed. His fingers tightened around Cedric’s, his free hand clamped down on his scar, and he grimaced in pain. 

“Harry?” Cedric asked, alarmed. 

“Scar,” Harry mumbled. “But it’s nothing...happens all the time now…” 

Cedric grimaced, remember the look of agony on Harry’s face when Wormtail had walked towards them in the graveyard. He wished, as he had countless times, that he could protect Harry from every in the world that would cause him pain. Something deep within his soul cried out whenever he saw Harry suffering. 

Harry had suffered enough for a hundred lifetimes. 

“Harry…” Cedric trailed off. “I think you should tell someone about your scar.” 

“Who?” 

“Dumbledore should know Harry,” Hermione insisted. 

Harry laughed out loud, a short, bitter laugh. “No Hermione, Cedric, really, I’m fine.” 

Cedric frowned but relented, resolving that he would keep an eye out and that was all he really could do. He couldn’t force Harry to go to help, all he could do was be there to offer it. Once again, he found himself cursing his own helplessness. 

* * *

Harry found himself in the parlour alone one morning, mindlessly cleaning. There seemed to be dust settled on every surface of the house, adding to the general gloom. He didn’t mind helping with the cleaning so much, it wasn’t like having to clean at the Dursleys. If anything it was grounding, giving him something to focus on. 

“Oh, Harry dear,” Harry turned to find the source of the unfamiliar voice. To his surprise, it was Mrs. Diggory. 

“Mrs. Diggory?” 

She beamed at him, sitting down on the sofa, “It’s Thea, Harry. You’re Cedric’s soulmate, after all, it’s not as if we’re strangers. Come, sit for a minute, I’ve been wanting to get a chance to talk to you.” 

Harry did sit, though he could feel a growing knot of uncertainty in his chest. He hadn’t really talked to either of Cedric’s parents since the Hospital Wing, though Cedric had written they wished him well, and he wasn’t entirely sure where he stood with them. When Cedric had described how their relationship drove him to truly shout at his father for the first time, Harry had felt nearly crushed with guilt. He knew exactly what it felt like to not have parents. The thought that he could have jeopardized what Cedric _did_ have terrified him. 

Thea Diggory stared at him for a long moment, then spoke, “You seem to have a lot on your mind.” 

A small laugh escaped him, “Doesn’t everyone?” 

“Well yes,” she inclined her head, “But I fear you and my son have it much worse than the rest of us. I can’t imagine this summer has been easy on you, Harry. Judging from the way Cedric broke down the other day talking to me, it must be worse than I even thought. He’s worried about you Harry, we all are.” 

_Oh Merlin how I wish you weren’t. Cedric_ broke down _because of you.._

Harry swallowed, “I um…” He sighed, leaning his face against his hand. “I don’t _mean_ to worry you. I’m just...used to dealing with things on my own really.” 

“Oh, Harry,” Thea said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. The gentleness of it was remarkably similar to Cedric, in a way Harry hadn’t expected at all. “I think we would worry no matter what you did. I just wanted to make sure you knew Amos and I are here for you too. I know you have your godfather and Remus, but really, Harry, if you ever need it, you have a home with us. No telling when we will return to the Diggory Home, but when we do you’ll be welcome any time.” 

Harry turned, staring at her for a moment. Words seemed to die in his throat, all of them failing to come close to express the gratitude he felt. Did she know how much that meant to him? From the look on her face, she did to some extent. 

“Thank you,” he said finally. 

_The Diggory Home..._ Suddenly thoughts began to come together in his mind, finally putting a question to the nagging worry he had felt since arriving. 

“Mrs. Diggory, er, Thea?” He asked as she stood to leave. 

“Yes, dear?” 

“Why...why _did_ you leave the Diggory Home?” 

“Oh,” she said softly, grimacing as she sat back down. “Cedric didn’t tell you. I don’t suppose he could have written but...I thought it would have come up by now. I’m sure he didn’t mean to.” 

Harry felt his chest turn cold with dread, “What, _exactly,_ hasn’t Cedric told me?” 

“There were...attacks,” she admitted, her voice distant. “Cedric is in danger every time he leaves this place really. At first we thought Cedric would be safe behind our wards until he returned to Hogwarts. We were wrong. The wards fell on the Diggory Home and the Order brought us here.” 

“By Death Eaters?!” Harry cried, alarmed. “Cedric was attacked by Death Eaters?” 

“Harry…” Thea Diggory trailed off, but Harry had already stormed from the room. 

* * *

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry demanded, marching into the room he shared with Cedric. “You were attacked by Death Eaters and you didn’t think to mention it? Your whole family is holed up here for their safety and _you didn’t think to mention it?_ ” 

“Harry…” Cedric’s expression was pained. 

“No, Cedric,” Harry scowled, “You could have died! Or worse! I, argh, this is all my fault!” 

Cedric was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room to rest a hand on Harry’s arm. Harry flinched, and Cedric pulled away. 

“Harry, it wasn’t...you couldn’t have...you couldn’t have done anything! I was--” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? I was right Cedric, I should have never let you get so close to my life, oh, Merlin I’ve been selfish and now--” 

“Shut it and listen to me for a _second_ Harry!” Cedric shouted, cutting him off. Harry fell silent. “Yes, Death Eaters attacked me. I had Order members protecting me, I was fine. Yes, the wards eventually fell at the Diggory home, but Dumbledore helped us escape. I am fine. My family is fine. We survived, just like we survived in June. Don’t you dare take that on yourself Harry, or try to push me out of your life to protect me, this is stressful enough as it is. I,” Cedric’s voice broke, “I can’t make it through this without you.” 

Harry stared at him for a long moment, struck by his words. Belatedly, he realized his boyfriend was crying. 

“Oh, Cedric,” he said softly, moving across the distance and wrapping his arms around the older boy, “I’m sorry. You just...you scared me.” 

* * *

The days followed in a steady rhythm of normalcy at Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Weasley continued having them clean the house, and Harry found he was thankful for the distraction. He didn’t know how to handle everyone’s concern, sometimes it felt a bit overbearing, like they thought he might break apart at any moment. It was difficult to be truly annoyed at them for any extended amount of time however, especially when he really wasn’t okay. 

Cedric and Mrs. Weasley seemed to be together on a coordinated effort to have Harry eat through an entire pantry. Harry couldn’t argue that he wasn’t a bit skinny, but after a month of sparse food it was difficult to eat as much as they wanted him too. It made him sick sometimes, even when he only ate a little. Remus brought him a vial of anti-nausea potion after that, which helped a bit. 

Since his reunion with Cedric the nightmares had improved and Harry was more well-rested than he had been in weeks. There were still nights both of them woke up crying out, nights where they had to cling to each other tightly to remember they were alive. But for the first time that summer they were there to comfort each other. 

The third day after his trial Harry knew he couldn’t wait much longer to talk to Ron and Hermione. They would never have pressured him to talk about it, and he could have waited, but after a certain point it felt wrong to. Most of the adults knew, and they were his best friends. Even as the last of his wounds were fading to thin white lines, even as the bruises were fading to nothing, he couldn’t pretend nothing had happened. 

And he was pretty sick of lying to them. 

So he sat down with them and Cedric one afternoon and they all talked and cried for a couple of hours. Hermione and Ron were incredibly understanding, if a bit annoyed he had hidden this for years from them, and a bit murderous towards the Dursleys. When both Ron and Hermione started to blame themselves for not noticing, Harry insisted that this was in no way their fault. Harry wasn’t sure how he would have survived the past four years without them. 

Again, he felt lighter after the conversation. He was moving forward, leaving the past behind. It was a good feeling. 

The end of the summer was steadily approaching and Harry found he was somewhat anxious to be returning to Hogwarts. Sirius would again be left alone in a home he hated. Harry would be separated, if only by castle walls, from Cedric. Harry knew the dreams would only get worse once term started. 

And besides that, Harry found he _liked_ the routine they had fallen into at Grimmauld place. It felt normal and domestic, as much as the headquarters of a secret society dedicated to fighting the darkest wizard of the age could, in a way that nothing else in his life had. Cleaning, playing chess with Ron, talking, eating together, stealing kisses from Cedric when the adults weren’t looking, laughing, falling asleep to the sound of Cedric’s heartbeat...it was all...peaceful...

Gone was the tension that hung over his every movement at Privet Drive. Gone were the mile long lists of chores. Gone was the frustration of letters empty of news. Gone was the threat of a belt. Gone was the aching loneliness. The darkness beyond Grimmauld Place, the looming threat of Lord Voldemort, was terrifying but...distant. 

That was a small victory, Harry thought. 

* * *

One day Harry was walking down the stairs, having just finished cleaning a set of windows, searching for Cedric. Suddenly his feet stopped, hesitating before walking into the parlour. Harry’s attention was captivated, enthralled, by the sound of music. 

The soft notes of a piano rang out into the air. They wove a melody of beautiful light and tenderness, gentle and strong all at once. Emotion, deep emotion, seemed to hang in the space, the silence, between the sounds. The tune was slow, but intricate. Clearly whoever was playing was experienced and talented. 

Slower now, quiet, Harry walked down the last few steps and into the parlour. He blinked in surprise at who he saw. 

Cedric sat at the piano, his fingers gliding along the keys. His body swayed with the music as his hands danced; every fiber of his being seemed to be engaged in the act of creating the sound that filled the air. He did not notice Harry’s entrance, or if he did, he paid it no mind. He was, in Harry’s eyes, in a word, beautiful. 

When the last note finally rang out into the air it seemed to linger, even as it faded to silence. For a moment they were both still, Harry hovering in the doorway and Cedric’s fingers frozen upon the keys. Finally Cedric, heaving a deep sigh, turned away from the keyboard and saw Harry, who had not yet found words to describe his feelings. 

Cedric blinked in surprise, blushing slightly, “Ah, Harry! I didn’t...I didn’t hear you--” 

“That was...incredible,” Harry cut him off, moving across the room to sit down next to his boyfriend. “I didn’t know you played.” 

“Did I not mention it? My mother taught me. Along with dancing lessons and etiquette, music is a part of growing up in the Diggory family,” he shrugged. “I don’t really, I mean I haven’t played in a while. But it’s...calming, familiar. It gives me something to channel my emotions into.” 

“What do you think about when you play?” Harry asked, intrigued. 

Cedric smiled, looking down at him, “Actually, I was thinking about you.” 

It was Harry’s turn to blush. 

“That was beautiful,” Harry said softly, leaning his head against Cedric’s shoulder. Pressing a soft kiss to Cedric’s cheek he continued, “You are beautiful.” 

Cedric gently reached, cupping Harry’s head in his hand and tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair. Harry melted into the touch as his soulmate drew him in for a kiss, letting the rest of the world fall away. He lost himself for a moment in the sparks of feeling that flooded his senses, lost himself in the unity that was the love they shared. 

As they broke apart Cedric rested his forehead against Harry’s. Neither opened their eyes. 

“Oooh,” abruptly they turned to the source of the voice; someone else had walked to the door of the parlour unnoticed by its occupants. Fred smirked at them, “Lunch is ready love birds.” 

* * *

Hogwarts letters, along with their book lists, came along soon enough. Ron was absolutely flabbergasted when he found the Prefect badge accompanying his letter. The twins were quick to tease him, saying they thought for sure it would be Harry. Hermione burst in with her badge a moment later, also surprised to find it wasn’t Harry. Cedric opened his letter to find that he had been made Head Boy, and his parents' faces swelled with pride. Harry kissed his boyfriend on the cheek to congratulate him, a small giggle escaping him as Cedric reacted. 

Cedric blushed furiously and the jokes of the twins turned to tease the Hufflepuff. Harry didn’t complain when Cedric returned the favor, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Harry was honestly glad he hadn’t been chosen as Prefect, he didn’t want the attention of it and Ron deserved some recognition. A tiny part of him twinged in pain for just a second, wondering if Ron really was just better than him, but it quickly vanished. The main worry that crossed his mind was that both his bestfriends and his boyfriend were going to be busy with school duties, leaving him on his own more often. 

Soon it was time to pack up their trunks and Mrs. Weasley returned from Diagon Alley with their books. She threw a small party at dinner to celebrate, and some of the other Order members joined them, including Cedric’s father, who had been away for several days. It was good to see everyone in such a good mood. 

Just as he was about to follow the twins out of the kitchen, Harry caught the sound of his own name. Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice was audible even over the surrounder chatter. 

“...why didn’t Dumbledore make potter a prefect?” 

“He’ll have had his reasons,” Remus replied. 

“But it would’ve shown confidence in him. Making Diggory Head Boy was a good move too, I would have thought he’d extend that confidence to Potter,” Kingsley persisted. “ ‘specially with the _Daily Prophet_ having a go at them every few days and everything else..” 

Harry did not look around, not wanting them to know he had heard. He found his way back to the table, though he was no longer remotely hungry. Cedric shot him a concerned glance but he waved it off, not wanting to worry him more. Mrs. Weasley left a moment later to handle the Boggart upstairs. 

“You all right, Potter?” Mad-Eye Moody grunted. There was something gentler in his gaze that Harry hadn’t expected, something like sympathy. 

Harry’s throat felt suddenly constricted as he realized that Moody also knew what state they had found him in at Privet Drive. A quick wave of shame washed over him, and he wondered if they too were all thinking he was weak. Was that why Dumbledore didn’t make him a Prefect...because he was weak? 

A nagging voice, fueled by his nightmares, echoed at the back of his mind, _You’re never strong enough to save Cedric in the graveyard._

“Yeah, fine,” Harry lied. 

Moody took a swig from his hip flask, his electric blue eyes staring sideways at Harry. 

“Come here, I’ve got something that might interest you,” He said gruffly. 

From an inner pocket of his robes Moody pulled a tattered old Wizarding photograph. 

“Original Order of the Phoenix,” Moody growled. “Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn’t had the manners to return my best one...Thought people might like to see it.” 

Harry took the photograph. A small crowd of people, some waving at him, others lifting their glasses, looked back at him. Moody started to tell him what happened to each person in the photograph and Harry felt his stomach begin to sink further. When they reached the faces of his parents, Wormtail standing next to them as if…

Harry excused himself, saying he needed to pack, and left for his room. 

It was too much. Seeing them there, so many faces of people passed on, all of their lives claimed by Lord Voldemort in the first war, it was too much. It was all too easy to imagine another photograph...in which the faces were the people living with him in Grimmauld Place...

Cedric caught up to him in the hallway, “You alright?” 

Harry grimaced, leaning against the wall, “If I lied and said yes, would you believe me?” 

“No,” Cedric said softly, leaning his head against Harry’s shoulder. 

Cedric looked as though he wanted to say something more but he was cut off by the sound of sobbing from the drawing room. They climbed the stairs two at a time, walked across the landing, and opened the drawing-room door. 

Mrs. Weasley was cowering against the dark wall, he wand in her hand, her whole body shaking with sobs. Sprawled on the dusty old carpet in a patch of moonlight, clearly dead, was Ron. All the air seemed to vanish from Harry’s lungs...Ron...dead...no, it couldn’t be…he was downstairs...

“Mrs. Weasley?” 

_“R-r-riddikulus!”_ She sobbed, pointing her shaking wand at Ron’s body. 

_Crack._ Ron’s body turned into Bill’s. _Crack._ Bill turned into Mr. Weasley. _Crack._ Dead twins. _Crack._ Dead percy. _Crack._ Dead Harry…

Behind him, Cedric drew a short breath, stumbling backwards, out of the doorway. Without thinking about it Harry stepped forward, between Mrs. Weasley and the Boggart. 

_My Boggart is a Dementor,_ He thought, drawing his wand. _This will be easy._ The fact he couldn’t do magic momentarily escaped him, all he could think of was stopping the horrible carnage of the bodies sprawled on the drawing floor. 

_Crack._

Cedric stared at him, his eyes a silent, desperate plea for help, then he fell to the ground...screaming, writhing in agony. Harry flinched. Moments later, he went deathly still, silent. 

Dead Cedric. 

Harry’s wand fell out of his hand as he sank to his knees. Something rational in him screamed that it was just a Boggart, just a Boggart...but Cedric’s eyes...his warm, grey eyes--usually filled with that spark of life that danced...stared back at him, cold. Empty. 

From somewhere distant, the voices of his nightmares echoed back at him. _“Bow to Death, Harry...everyone you love will die and then I will kill you Harry potter…bow to death...”_  
“What’s going on?” 

Remus came running into the room; closely followed by Sirius, with Moody stumping along behind them. Remus looked from the sobbing Mrs. Weasley, to Harry, to Cedric, to the dead Cedric on the floor and seemed to understand in an instant. Pulling out his own wand he said, very firmly and very clearly, _“Riddikulus!”_

Cedric’s body vanished. A silvery orb hung in the air over the spot where it had lain. Remus waved his wand once more and the orb vanished in a puff of smoke. 

Seconds later, Harry felt a pair of strong, familiar arms envelop him. Cedric was pulling him tightly close, and Harry was clinging to him like he might disappear in a moment. His sobs were muffled against Cedric’s chest, and Cedric was crying, burying his face in Harry’s hair. 

“I...I couldn’t save you…” Harry cried, his voice breaking. 

Distantly, he heard Remus move to comfort Mrs. Weasley. 

“Shh…” Cedric’s voice was shaky, in stark contrast to its usual confident levelness. “We’re alive Harry, we’re alive. We’re here. We’re safe…we’ll protect each other, Harry, we’ll get through this...” 

_Will we?_

* * *

The night before they left for Hogwarts Harry returned to the graveyard in his nightmares. Wormtail tied them to the gravestone and Voldemort rose from the cauldron. The Death Eaters laughed as Cedric and Harry screamed. A flash of blinding green and Cedric went limp, his eyes staring into perpetual nothingness...Harry cried out his name and he did not answer...

The darkness seemed to have a physical presence, pushing in from all directions...he felt as though he were back beneath the black lake, drowning, the light fading away in the distance...only this time there was no speck of light to fight towards...the darkness enveloped him, entering his mouth and nose and lungs, choking him...surely, he was dying...

With a gasp Harry woke, taking several moments to realize where he was. The room was dark. Next to him Cedric thrashed about in his sleep, muttering and crying out. 

“Harry...Merlin, Harry! Don’t kill him! Please! Somebody help us, please...Harry...Harry...Harry!” 

Harry shook his shoulder gently. Cedric woke up from the nightmare in a fright, looking around frantically. His eyes met Harry’s in the gloom, grey and warm and...filled with life. They pulled each other into a tight, desperate embrace. 

Neither of them made it back to sleep that night. 

When the others woke to leave they found Harry and Cedric sitting together in the kitchen, empty mugs of hot cocoa on the table, hands intertwined. They were quiet, having thoroughly exhausted the topic of what had woken them, and just sat in silence, staring at each other. 

* * *

Remus, Padfoot, and Cedric’s parents accompanied them to King’s Cross. Padfoot ran happily down the streets, and Harry couldn’t help but smile, knowing what being cooped up was doing to his godfather. 

The group gathered at King’s Cross to say goodbye. Thea Diggory pulled Harry into a soft, motherly hug--surprising him--and Amos Diggory shook his hand firmly. Harry remembered Thea’s promise and smiled, deeply grateful that he hadn’t driven a wedge between Cedric and his family. If anything, looking at the way they pulled Cedric close for a family hug, the events of the past year seemed to have brought them closer together. 

Climbing onto the Hogwarts Express Harry soon parted from Ron, Hermione, and Cedric--not without a hug--as they went to attend to their Prefect duties. 

Harry found himself suddenly alone, unsure of what to do. He had never ridden the train without Ron before. Ginny found him a moment later and pulled him along to find a compartment. They ended up sitting with Neville and a Fourth Year Ravenclaw Harry didn’t know: Luna Lovegood. She was a bit odd, but seemed overall quite nice. 

Ron and Hermione came back eventually, with an apology from Cedric, who went to talk to the Hufflepuffs for a bit. Harry found he wasn’t terribly disappointed, he hardly would begrudge Cedric his social life. They talked about what Prefect duties entailed for a bit, Hermione scolding Ron on several occasions; then a newspaper called _The Quibbler_ , which Luna’s father owned. 

Harry scowled as their compartment door opened, hoping to see Cedric and instead finding Draco Malfoy, smirking at him from between his cronies Crabbe and Goyle. 

“What?” he said aggressively, before Malfoy could open his mouth. 

“Manners, Potter, or I’ll have to give you a detention,” drawled Malfoy, whose sleek blond hair and pointed chin were just like his father’s. Harry felt suddenly nauseous thinking of Lucius Malfoy. “You see, I, unlike you, have been made a Prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments.” 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone.” 

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville laughed. Malfoy’s lip curled. 

“Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?” he asked. 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Hermione said sharply. 

“Then again, they could hardly make a poofter like you Prefect,” Malfoy sneered. 

Harry was on his feet, about to retort, but another voice cut in before he had the chance. 

“Seeing as they made me Head Boy I hardly think _that_ is relevant _at all,”_ Cedric was standing behind Malfoy in the doorway, his arms crossed. “Get out Malfoy,” Cedric’s voice was low, flat, and deliberately threatening. 

Sniggering, Malfoy gave Harry a last malicious look, but departed as Cedric continued to scowl. With him and his cronies gone, and Cedric next to him, the train ride back to Hogwarts was actually quite pleasant. Harry felt strangely optimistic, like perhaps this year things would finally be looking up for them. Maybe he wouldn’t even be in mortal peril by the end of it. 

Of course, naturally, that feeling didn’t last long once they actually got to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still looking for a beta, comment if you're interested!  
> A note on posting schedules: I am endeavoring to post daily. There will be a break in posting this Friday while I am recovering from having my wisdom teeth removed and daily updates should return Monday. Part I ends after chapter 9, there might be another short break before Part II is posted.  
> Thank you to anyone and everyone who leaves reviews! You make my day brighter and you fuel the inspiration for this story!


	5. Within The Castle Walls

**Chapter 5: Within The Castle Walls**

The four long House tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the table, illuminating the faces of the students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, and shouting greetings at friends from other houses. People put their heads together to whisper as he and Cedric passed and Harry gritted his teeth and tried to act as if he neither noticed nor cared. 

Cedric broke away with a soft, reassuring squeeze of Harry’s hand, and walked over to the Hufflepuff table. Harry watched him go for a moment, relieved when it seemed Cedric’s friends at least were still on good terms with him, and then turned to sit with Ron and Hermione. Alarmed, Harry realized Hagrid was noticeably missing from the Great Hall, and when he asked no one knew where he was. 

Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation.

“Who’s _that?_ ” she said sharply, pointing towards the middle of the table. 

It was Dolores Umbridge from his hearing, wearing a hideously pink cardigan over her robes. Someone controlled by the Ministry, who worked for Fudge, was seated at the staff table of Hogwarts. Harry couldn’t ignore the growing knot of anxiety in his stomach, remembering exactly what she had been like at his trial. 

_Whatever her plans are...they can’t be good..._

After the Sorting Hat’s song, which sounded more like an ominous warning, the First Years were sorted and the feast commenced. Dumbledore gave his usual warnings and announced changes in staff; Professor Grubbly-Plank had returned to teach Care of Magical Creatures in Hagrid’s absence, and Dolores Umbridge had been appointed as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The only comforting thought about this was that she wasn’t likely to last longer than a year. 

Dumbledore continued, “Tryouts for the House Quidditch team will take place on the--” 

_“Hem, hem,”_ Professor umbridge had interrupted him, getting to her feet with the clear intention of making a speech. The staff and students of Hogwarts stared at her in surprise, startled that she had _actually_ just interrupted the Headmaster. Her speech was beyond dull and terrible, Harry wasn’t the only one who found his attention waning, but she didn’t seem to take notice of the growing restlessness in the Hogwarts students. 

“...because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Immoral ways shall be discarded, in favor of honoring older, more traditional maxims. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of structure, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be...prohibited.” 

Hermione shared in Harry’s apprehension, clearly worried. He glanced over to the Hufflepuff table; Cedric tried to give him a reassuring look, but Harry could clearly see the anxiety in his expression. 

After the speech, Hermione, Ron, and Cedric found themselves preoccupied with escorting First Years, so Harry walked back to the Gryffindor common room alone, conscious of the stares that followed him wherever he went. He supposed he wasn’t really surprised at their reaction, he and Cedric had emerged from the Triwizard maze only months ago claiming to have seen Lord Voldemort return to power. Most of what the student body knew about them by that point was based on the writing of the _Daily Prophet_. 

Harry met up with Neville at the portrait of the Fat Lady; inside they found Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, who had reached the dormitory first and were in the process of decorating their corners of the dormitory. They had been talking as Harry pushed open the door but stopped abruptly the moment they saw him. Within moments conversation turned tense, Seamus revealing his mother didn’t want him returning to Hogwarts because of the _Daily Prophet._

“If you've got a problem sharing a dormitory with me, go and ask McGonagall if you can be moved--” 

“You know what?” Seamus said heatedly, casting a vehement glance at Harry. “He’s right, I don’t want to share a dormitory with him anymore, he’s a madman. Not just a madman either, a goddam poofter.” 

Harry felt his heart sink into his stomach, and he visibly flinched. 

Ron turned abruptly, glaring, “That’s out of order, Seamus.” 

“Out of order, am I?” Seamus shouted. “You just accept that someone like...like _him_ has been living with us for four year? You believe all the rubbish he’s come out with about You-Know-Who, do you? You reckon he’s telling the _truth_?” 

“Yeah, I do!” Ron said angrily. 

“Then you’re mad too,” Seamus said in disgust. 

“Yeah? Well unfortunately for you, pal, I’m also a prefect!” Ron jabbed himself in the chest with a finger, shouting. “So unless you want a detention, watch your mouth!” Seamus looked as though he thought detention might be worth it for a few moments, then abruptly backed off. Ron glared at him, then turned to Dean and Neville, “Anyone else got a problem with Harry?” he asked aggressively. 

Harry felt anger building in his chest, wrapping itself around the coiling, tight knot of panic. He could barely hear Dean and Neville talking over din of his own struggling mind. Neville, at least, seemed to believe him, but that didn’t comfort Harry much. Distantly he realized he was shaking. Ron smiled at him reassuringly and he could only nod in response. 

He climbed into his bed and shut the hangings around him, casting a one-way silencing charm without thinking off it. Every muscle in his body felt tight with tension and anxiety, he was trembling, he could barely breathe...it hurt to just exist…

If it were just Seamus, it would have been fine. But it wasn’t going to just be Seamus. 

_Soon other people will start calling you a liar, and not just you, Cedric too. Oh Merlin, how is he handling this? He doesn’t know what it’s like to have people turn on him._

Harry felt the familiar weight of guilt settling heavily on his chest, compounding with his fear and anger. He had dragged Cedric into this mess and there was no dragging him out of it, nor was Harry entirely sure he could survive it without his soulmate’s support. 

That night, as he drifted fitfully off to sleep, Harry was alone. In his dreams he returned to the graveyard, watched the man he loved scream in pain and die with a flash of green light. When the darkness enveloped him, flooding his lungs with an ink that burned, Harry did not struggle...his will bowed to Death…

And when he woke up, there was no feeling of safety and love to reassure him it was only a dream. Once again he was alone, separated from Cedric by the countless walls of the castle. Harry did not fall back asleep. 

* * *

Cedric made his way to the Great Hall with his friends, yawning regularly and allowing them to carry the majority of the conversation. He’d lain awake, lonely without Harry’s warmth next to him, the words of people he had once called friends ringing in his ears. It was more difficult than he thought to simply ignore. Before him liking men had never been a problem, never worth even worrying about revealing. But compounded on the controversy surrounding Voldemort…people were looking for any excuse to take a dig at him. 

He could only pray that somehow Harry wasn’t dealing with the same, or worse. 

In his dreams he had returned to the darkness and it had shown him again his worst fear, had locked him in his pain like an inescapable cage. Cedric woke up tired, anxious, and worried. His friends James and Gavin, concerned, had pestered him to talk. They entirely missed and misunderstood his desperate need of understanding silence; silence only one person in the whole world could really give him. 

Entering the Great Hall Cedric hovered for several long moments, letting his friends go on to the Hufflepuff table as he scanned the Gryffindor faces. Harry was not among them. With a pang of irrational fear he felt his heart lurch in his chest, only marginally overruled by the rational voice that said Harry had just slept in later. 

He had to consciously will himself to eat, shoveling eggs and toast into his mouth mechanically. Conversation drifted around him, words hazy and lacking real meaning, everything covered by a blanket of exhaustion. Every few heartbeats his eyes would flick to the door, searching...and it wasn’t until he was almost finished eating he found the face he was looking for. 

Harry walked into the hall wearily, almost dragging his feet with each step. Cedric stood up quickly, breaking away from his friends to say good morning, and Harry drifted listlessly to meet him halfway. Suddenly, as they drew closer, words failed Cedric and he simply reached to pull Harry into a tight embrace. 

To simply be close to Harry was bliss after the anxiety separation had given Cedric. The warmth between them was a firm reminder that the only darkness within the castle walls was buried in their own minds. It could torture them, it could tear them apart as they slept, but it could not really hurt them. The warmth was safety, peace, and love, and it couldn’t be destroyed. 

“You didn’t sleep well,” Cedric stated plainly, breaking away to stare into Harry’s eyes. 

“Neither did you.” 

They stood off to the side of the Great Hall, hands intertwined, only inches apart, ignoring the half dozen odd looks shot their way. Cedric desperately wanted in that moment to kiss Harry for the rest of their lives, but knew they had to exercise some restraint in public. 

“Nightmares?” Harry nodded. “You okay?” 

_You’re not okay. We’re not okay. All we have is this and is this enough to survive on?_

Harry shook his head, “To be honest, not really Cedric. Are you--” 

_“Hem, hem,”_ They both turned to be greeted by the face of Professor Umbridge, who was smiling devilishly. “Public displays of affection are simply not appropriate. I would have expected better from you Mr. Diggory. This...indecency simply cannot be allowed.” 

_Excuse you?_

Both of them stared at her, stunned. It was Cedric who finally managed to muster the words to speak, “Professor…” 

“Ten points from Gryffindor house and detention, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge said, turning to leave, “Tomorrow evening. Five o’clock. My office.” 

_Did she just...exclusively punish Harry for this? Merlin, what is up with this...toad?_

“Professor…” Cedric tried again, this time his voice much less even. “The rules against displays of affection are quite vague. I do not believe the punishment you gave Harry is standard, or appropriate.” 

“Is there an issue, Mr. Diggory?” she asked curtly, pausing. “The rules against public displays of affection are intentionally left up to the discretion of staff. I would hope I would not need to discipline the Head Boy for a lesson to be learned. Other,” she shot a withering glance at Harry, “Students are...much more problematic. Am I incorrect? Shall you be joining Mr. Potter in detention?”

Harry hand wrapped around Cedric’s arm, holding him back with a firm squeeze. _Let it go, Cedric,_ his eyes seemed to plead. Cedric wouldn’t have let the issue go, except that he knew Harry would find some way to blame himself if Cedric got in trouble. That would only make matters worse. 

Cedric sighed, shaking his head, “No, Professor Umbridge, no issue.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said softly, pulling away toward the Gryffindor table. He smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes, “Detention isn’t that bad. Er, I guess we’ll just have to be careful in the future.. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

Cedric nodded, watching Harry go and wishing for all the world he could hold him close. 

He could no longer tell if the apprehension growing tightly within his chest still had a clear source. Was it just fear, worry for what would happen when they inevitably faced the danger lurking somewhere out in the shadows of the world? Was it just the usual, constant concern for Harry? Was there something else he was missing? 

Surely, within the castle walls, they were safe. 

* * *

Potions went horribly for Harry the first day, but he couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. Discussing Snape’s character gave Ron and Hermione a reason to argue, as if they really needed an excuse to set something off, and Harry found himself thoroughly annoyed by the time they reached Divination. 

Trelawny, with her habit of predicting Harry’s premature death, made Divination Harry’s second least favorite class after Potions. The first unit, on dream interpretation, only served to worsen his mood, especially when she set the keeping of a dream diary as homework. The idea that his recurring nightmares could be omens of the future was downright terrifying; not for the first time he was glad Trelawney's predictions weren’t to be taken horribly seriously. 

Somehow Defense Against the Dark Arts managed to be even worse. Harry walked into the double class with anxiety already knotted tightly in his stomach, knowing from the events of the morning he was right to have a bad feeling about Professor Umbridge. Familiar tremors began to twitch in his hands as he stepped over the threshold of the class; for all the effort he put in, he could not control them. 

The class was beyond dull, Umbridge setting them to read the first chapter of a defense text that could have easily been written for first years. Hermione, in a somewhat unexpected turn of events, refused to even open her copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ , holding her hand in the air stubbornly for minutes on end. Eventually, when it became a significant distraction to the class, Umbridge called on her. 

“Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?” she asked, as if Hermione had only just raised her hand. 

“Not about the chapter, no.” 

“Well, we’re reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.” 

“I’ve got a query about your course aims,” Hermione said firmly. 

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows, “And your name is--?” 

“Hermione Granger.” 

“Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read through carefully,” Professor Umbridge spoke with a tone of determined, sickly, sweetness. 

“Well I don’t,” Hermione said bluntly. “There’s nothing written up there about _using_ defensive spells.” 

Umbridge laughed at her, soft, patronizing, and mocking. She said they would never be a need for them to _use_ defensive spells, that no one would ever attack them in class. She announced to the class they were going to learn about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way. 

Something in Harry, something that had managed to remain passive throughout the dull class but finally reached a breaking point, _snapped._

“What use is that?” Harry demanded. “If we’re going to be attacked it won’t be in a--” 

“Hand, Mr. Potter!” In contrast to her pervasive sweetness, Umbridge spat out his name like it left a foul, disgusting taste in her mouth. 

Harry thrust his hand into the air but Professor Umbridge turned away, ignoring him like one might ignore a fly. Dean Thomas, to his surprise, came to Harry’s support. He and Hermione were quickly shot down by Umbridge, who went on to criticize how they had been taught in the past. She called Remus a dangerous half-breed, straining Harry’s restraint on his anger further, and insisted that they had simply been frightened into believing the world was dangerous. Umbridge seemed to believe learning the spells in theory and practicing them at the examination--for the first bloody time--would be sufficient. 

The only consolation was that Harry was not the only one upset at this. 

“So how are we supposed to prepare for what’s waiting out there?” Harry said hotly. 

“There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter,” she said sweetly. “Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?” 

_‘Children?’ We’re not children in his eyes...our age will gain us no mercy..._

“Hmm, let’s think..” Harry said, sarcastically thoughtful, “maybe _Lord Voldemort?”_

The room flinched. Professor Umbridge, however, stared at Harry with satisfaction and took ten points from Gryffindor. There was a terrible silence upon the room, the tension allowing no room for extraneous sounds. Umbridge continued, insisting that what they had been told about Lord Voldemort was a lie. 

Harry scowled, “It is NOT a lie! Cedric and I saw him, we fought him!” 

“Detention, Mr. Potter. Three on top of what I have already assigned. You simply must learn how to conduct yourself...properly in society,” Umbridge continued to insist that truths were lies and proceed with teaching the class. Harry sat fuming with rage for a moment, unable to hear her over the blood roaring in his ears. 

Harry stood up, ignoring Hermione’s whispered warning. “So, according to you, who, exactly, tortured me the night of the Third Task?” He asked, his voice shaking. “Who, exactly, tried to murder Cedric?” 

The class seemed to hold its breath--few people had heard Harry or Cedric comment on what had happened. Umbridge raised her eyes to stare at him coldly, all traces of fake smiles wiped from her face. 

“Mr. Potter, you and Mr. Diggory have never come close to any real harm or danger. I have nothing to say on the matter of hallucinations, delusions, and fantasies concocted to attract attention.” 

“It was Voldemort,” Harry could feel himself shaking, the tremors shuddering violently through his muscles. Anxiety, anger, and exhaustion wrestled within him. “Voldemort attacked us, and _you_ know it.” 

Professor Umbridge was maddeningly quiet, simply writing him a note on a piece of parchment to take to Professor McGonagall. Harry took the note gladly, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him. Only a handful of steps down the corridor and he felt his anger implode, leaving him struggling to breathe. 

_Why now?_ He demanded, leaning against the wall for support as he attempted to regain his composure. _Damn anxiety…_

In the absence of his anger there was nothing to distract him from the waves of panic and exhaustion. His meager defenses were gone, all his energy devoted to the simple act of painfully forcing himself to continue breathing. For the past month he had Cedric there to help him through attacks; Harry had forgotten how horrible it was to survive them alone. 

It _hurt_. It was exhausting, both physically and emotionally. It left him feeling empty and pathetic. By the time he managed to get to McGonagall's office, propelled by sheer willpower, he was sure he looked a mess. 

“Mr. Potter, what on earth are you doing outside of class?” 

“I’ve been sent to see you,” Harry said stiffly, his voice tight. 

“Sent? What do you mean, sent? You look like you're about to keel over.” 

Harry held out the note from Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from him, frowned, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out, and began to read.

“Come in here, Potter.” 

He followed her inside study, the door closing behind them. 

“Well?” Professor McGonagall said, rounding on him, “Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge and called her a liar?” 

“Yes,” Harry said shortly, scowling. 

“You told her He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?” 

“Yes.” 

Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching Harry closely. Then she said, “Have a biscuit, Potter.” 

“Have--what?” 

“Have a biscuit,” She repeated, indicating the tin on her desk. “And then I’m sending you to the Hospital Wing for a Calming Draught.” 

Harry scowled, “I’m fine, professor.” 

She raised a single eyebrow at him, “Clearly.” 

“Really,” He said shortly, wanting very much at that moment to leave her office, “I don’t want--I don’t need any Calming Draught.” 

Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge’s note and looked at Harry very seriously. 

“Potter, you need to be careful.”

Her tone of voice was not at all what he was used to; it was not brisk, crisp, and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual. She advised him to keep his head down, to remember who Umbridge was reporting to. Harry left the office feeling slightly less angry, but, if possible, more frustrated. 

This wasn’t just about keeping his head down and surviving. This wasn’t even about the truth being the truth. 

This was about the very real, very dark reality of the world. As long as the majority of people refused to believe it, the entire world was in danger. The people he loved were in danger. Speaking up for the truth meant trying to protect them, trying to _save_ them all…

Before it was too late. 

* * *

Word spread fast within the walls of Hogwarts. 

It started with Slytherins starting to ask if he should be admitted to the Mind Healing ward of St. Mungos--an unexpected addition to their usual taunts. Cedric didn’t particularly care what they thought of him, but he assumed, correctly, that something had happened with Harry. He listened, consumed with concern, as someone described the scene that had played out in Fifth Year DADA. 

_Merlin, Harry...trouble really does find you..._

And Cedric realized, with sinking dread, there was never peace within the wall of Hogwarts, at least not for Harry. The darkness rising in the world was pressing in on all of them, even if the majority of the population did not realize, and it was slowly cracking them at the edges. He wondered how long it would be before it found a weakness in their defense...pushed its way fully inside…

Thinking of the son of a certain Death Eater, wandering the halls freely, Cedric wondered if it already had. 

Cedric did not manage to find Harry until right before dinner. He pulled his soulmate, who looked absolutely exhausted, away from the Great Hall with a few murmured words. Harry followed him wordlessly, his grip tight in Cedric’s hand. They slipped away from the throngs of students, into the relative privacy of an alcove down a less-walked passage. 

He wasn’t entirely sure who leaned in first, maybe it was simultaneous. The distance between them, the shared worry and concern and anger and anxiety seemed to almost burn. They crashed together like the twin stars Professor Sinistra spoke of in Astronomy class, drawn together by a gravity they could never hope to escape. It was deeper, almost bruising, desperate in a way none of their kisses had ever been before. Cedric’s arms wrapped around Harry, one of them tangling in his hair, pulling him close. He lost himself for a moment, consumed by Harry’s presence…

_Earth and peppermint...cool and soft...Harry…_

Cedric finally pulled away, breathless, and rested his forehead against Harry. His soulmate trembled softly under his touch, breathing shallowly. 

“I hate this,” Harry said finally, breaking the silence. 

“Shh…” Cedric pulled him closer, hating the pain in Harry’s voice as it broke, gently running his hand along Harry’s back. 

“I _hate_ this,” Harry repeated, both distraught and angered. “No one is listening! No one...no one understands…” 

“That’s not true,” Cedric said softly, pulling away slightly. Cedric met Harry’s eyes, gazing into them with firm intent, willing Harry to understand the weight and sincerity of his words, “I understand Harry. It sucks, it’s horrible, but I’m here. I’m always here,” he said softly, resting a hand on Harry’s sternum. “You don’t _ever_ have to fight this alone. You’re not alone.” 

Harry sighed deeply nodding, straining himself. He tried for a smile but it wasn’t a strong attempt, “I hate the Great Hall. All their eyes...there is no escaping it, is there?” 

“No,” Cedric agreed, interlacing their fingers firmly. “But they have _no_ power over you Harry.” 

“It still...it still hurts…” 

“Oh Harry,” Cedric pulled him into another hug. “Of _course_ it does. I have no idea how you survived this kind of attention on your own, ever. We’re only human. But you--we--are stronger than they think. Don’t let them take that strength from us. Courage now, Harry. We’ll get through this together.” 

And Cedric was sure his words were more said to convince himself in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE WONDERFUL KUDOS TO:  
> Tree Spiral, who was kind enough to beta this chapter. 
> 
> Also, a note on posting: I will be taking a break for a few days. Thank you all for reading and being patient! Chapter 6 should be posted sometime Monday!


	6. Speak No Evil

**Chapter 6: Speak No Evil**

Harry sighed deeply, leaning his head on his hands and rubbing his eyes. His morning had been spent in double Charms, followed by double Transfiguration. Both Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall had lectured on the importance of the O.W.L.s. Flitwick’s words in particular, _“If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so,”_ seemed to echo annoyingly at the back of his head, making it difficult to focus. 

And that afternoon, when they had passed Hagrid’s hut, the friendly puff of smoke achingly absent from the chimney, a pang of loneliness had struck him in the chest. Harry found himself worried for Hagrid more and more. It was always there now, another nagging voice wondering if someone he cared about was in danger...

He was sitting with Hermione and Cedric in an old classroom, having gathered directly after Herbology to study together before five o’clock. Cedric had insisted on it, as he didn’t know how much time he’d have to study after detention. Harry rather suspected it was more for moral support, between eating and talking they didn’t have much time left. 

Harry and Cedric’s shins were pressed against each other, they seemed unconsciously to agree physical contact whenever they were near was necessary. It was...grounding, stabilizing, amidst the confusion. Cedric took notice of his frustration, turning to him with a sympathetic glance and a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Sorry…” Harry murmured. 

“Don’t apologize love,” Cedric said softly. “Something new on your mind?” 

He nodded, “Bloody O.W.L.s.” 

Hermione looked up from her books, “They really are important, Harry. Flitwick was right, it’s time to start thinking about after Hogwarts.” 

“I _know_ ,” Harry sighed. “And that’s why this is so...maddeningly frustrating. I don’t know...what I want to do.” 

“Well you really need to work on your goal setting,” Hermione advised. 

“You act like it’s easy,” Harry scowled. “I have no idea how to choose.” 

Hermione nodded, “I’ll find you a book…” 

Cedric shook his head at Hermione, “I’m not sure that’s the best course of action, Hermione. Harry’s got to...naturally come across something that fits with what he wants. I didn’t decide to try to become a Healer thanks to a book.” 

Hermione inclined her head, relenting. 

“How _did_ you decide to become a Healer, Cedric?” Harry asked, his curiosity piqued. 

Cedric shrugged, leaning back in his chair to stretch, “I dunno,” he admitted. 

“Ah, helpful,” Harry said sarcastically. 

Cedric gave him a playful shove, grinning, “But I meant what I said about finding something that seemed right for _you._ I want to become a Healer because I want to help people, particularly with...everything going on.” He sighed, gesturing to a textbook, “Now that I know how difficult it’s going to be, I’m rather wishing I had thought this through a bit. I have to interview with the Healer Apprenticeship Program at St. Mungo’s at the end of the year and prepping for that is...like a whole class put on top of everything else.” 

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Harry said, meeting Cedric’s eyes. 

“Thanks, Harry,” He smiled. “As much as it terrifies me to think about this, with your…” he sighed, “Saving-people-thing I’d have thought you’d be considering a career as an Auror. Whatever you do decide, O.W.L.s are important. Hermione and I are going to help you study for them and you are going to listen to us, okay?” 

Harry hesitated, taken back by the forcefulness of his boyfriend’s words, “Cedric--” 

“Harry, the information on your O.W.L.s might mean the difference between life and death with everything going on. I need us to be doing something, anything to prepare.” 

“Not that DADA is much practical use right now,” Hermione muttered. No one argued. 

“Harry!” Cedric exclaimed, glaring up at the clock. “It’s 4:50!” 

“Bloody hell!” Harry, with Cedric’s help, started shoving books into his bag. 

Before he could run away Cedric held him back, interlacing their fingers and pressing a chaste by firm kiss against his lips, “Don’t let her get to you, Harry. You’re stronger than she is.” 

Harry managed a nod, though he didn’t feel that confident as he raced down the halls to avoid being late. When he arrived, with only a minute to spare, he knocked. The voice that bade him enter was surgery, sickly sweet. 

Her office was rather reflective of her personality, Harry thought. It was covered in hideous shades of pink, the kinds of pink that overwhelm a person after too long--and the pink was _everywhere_. On top of that were lacy doilies and coverings. Ornamental plates, charmed with technicolor kittens, completed the look. It was as if she were trying, with great effort, to appear as non threatening as possible, and in the process coming across as just plain creepy. 

Harry attempted to ask Umbridge about the possibility of rescheduling Friday's detention-- Angelina had stopped him in the hall about Quidditch tryouts--but it was no use. When she pressed the quill and parchment into his hands he was rather surprised, having expected something...more from her. 

“I want you to write, _‘I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society and I must not tell lies._ ’” she told him softly. 

Harry stared at her for a moment, trying to regain his composure. The line wasn’t terribly long--Snape had set him far more creative lines in the past--but the point she was making wasn’t lost on him. This was about more than the truth about Voldemort. He wanted, so badly, to lash out in anger over that. 

_WE’RE IN LOVE,_ he wanted to shout, shoving his soulmark in her face and kissing his boyfriend firmly, in front of everyone, proudly. But, as much as he hated it, Professor McGonagall had been right about one thing; Harry needed to be careful. Their relationship might have been public knowledge, but attracting more attention to it would only put Cedric in more danger--both from Umbridge, and Voldemort. 

“How many times?” Harry asked, though he could not manage a tone of politeness. 

“Oh, as long as it takes for the message to _sink in,_ ” Umbridge said sweetly. “Off you go.” 

“You haven’t given me any ink.” 

“Oh, you won’t need ink.” There was the slightest hint of a laugh in her voice; it sent a wave of nausea through Harry’s nerves. 

Harry swallowed his pride, placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: _I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society and I must not tell lies._

The pain caught him by surprise; he could not suppress the gasp that escaped him at the suddenness of it. The words had appeared on the paper in shining red, and at the same time they had appeared on the back of Harry’s right hand, cut into his flesh as though traced by a knife. The sentence stretched from just above his wrist to the second knuckle of his hand. A bead of blood dripped out at the end of the line, running down the side of his hand. Then, even as he was staring at the wound, the skin healed over, red and inflamed.. He felt sick for a moment, remembering what just a few drops of his blood had done in the past. 

Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike smile stretched in a sickening smile. 

“Yes?” 

_She likes this,_ he realized, a distant memory of cackling Death Eaters echoing in his mind. _She wants to see you in pain._

_“You’re stronger than she is…”_

“Nothing,” Harry said quietly. 

He looked back at the parchment and forced himself to pick up the quill again, pressing it down with sheer force of will. He wrote, _I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society and I must not tell lies,_ and felt the searing pain digging into his flesh. Once again the words had been cut into his hand and healed over. 

_See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil..._ Harry mused, contemplating the strategy of the Ministry. Fudge, who was clearly terrified, seemed to believe that if he and his followers could discredit the truth, they could destroy it. Of course, ignoring Voldemort wouldn’t make him disappear. Fudge lacked the moral backbone to stand up and do what was needed, what was _right._

Fudge chose the easy route. 

But it was nothing, he realized suddenly. The pain, while excruciating in the moment, was hardly the worst that he had felt. The truth, while they could attempt to suppress it, would not lie in the shadows, unheard, forever. Umbridge’s petty games had nothing on the torture inflicted upon him by the horror she refused to acknowledge. His pride was stronger than the wounds she could inflict. 

And as he realized that, all real power she held over his psyche vanished. 

This was a battle, a battle of wills. On and on it went, again and again Harry wrote the words on the parchment in his own blood. And again the words were cut into the back of his hand, bled a little, then healed over. 

After everything, what was one more scar? 

_I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society and I must not tell lies._

_I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society and I must not tell lies._

_I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society and I must not tell lies..._

Time stretched on. Darkness fell outside Umbridge’s window. Harry did not ask when he would be allowed to stop, did not give her any reason to believe she had broken his resolve. He did not even check his watch. He held on to the one thing she couldn’t take away from him, even though earlier he had to swallow it to keep from lashing out--he held onto his pride. 

Professor Umbridge let him go after what could only have been hours, Harry was sure it was close to midnight. He left her office with his head held high, and only made it a few steps before he felt his exhaustion hit him in a wave. 

The battle was over now, he was out of sight. He practically crumpled, the lack of adrenaline and the dizzying pain in his hand leaving him weak and trembling fitfully. 

A moment later firm, supportive hands were on his shoulders and he was looking into a pair of caring gray eyes, “Harry?” Cedric’s voice was soft. “What the bloody hell did she do to you?” 

_Protect him from the truth,_ a voice in him screamed. _He’ll get himself in trouble trying to help. There’s nothing he can do. This is your fight._

“Just lines,” he muttered, managing to stand a little straighter. 

“Are you okay?” 

He nodded, leaning into Cedric’s support, “Just tired really.” 

Cedric frowned, “Harry, what’s wrong?” 

“I’m tired,” Harry snapped, immediately regretting the harsh edge his tone took. “Sorry, Cedric, really, I just...I’m tired.” 

“It’s okay, Harry,” Cedric said softly, brushing the hair across Harry’s forehead. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here to help.” 

“I know,” Harry sighed. “Why are you here?” 

Cedric smiled softly, “To help. Head Boy decided this corridor needed some...extra patrolling tonight. I didn’t want you to have to walk back to Gryffindor tower alone.” 

“Oh,” Harry said, weak with gratitude and overwhelmed with a sudden wave of happiness in Cedric’s presence. “Thank you.” 

“C’mon,” Cedric said gently. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Homework.” 

“Bed,” Cedric insisted. “Healer’s orders.” 

“You’re not a Healer _yet._ ” 

“No,” Cedric pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “Just a protective boyfriend. Listen to me on this, please. We both need all the sleep we can get right now.” 

And that, Harry could not argue with. 

* * *

Having had no chance to finish homework the night before, Harry’s morning was consumed with studying. Ron joined him in skipping breakfast to write in their dream diaries for divination; Harry, not wanting to share his true dreams with literally anyone but his soulmate, made up a dream about buying new shoes. Hermione asked about the detention and heard the same explanation Cedric got: just lines. 

It wasn’t technically a lie, Harry would hate to outright lie to them. But somehow he could not bear to see their looks of horror, especially Cedric’s--he knew it would somehow make it worse. It was easier to manage, to bear, when it was a burden he bore alone. 

_“You’re not alone.”_

_Shut up._

Harry knew he wasn’t alone, but that did not change his desire to protect the people he cared about from unnecessary stress and pain. They were all under a tremendous amount of pressure with everything going on, especially Cedric, they didn’t need more to worry about. This was a battle he could fight alone. 

So he concealed the wounds. The second detention was just as bad as the first, and Cedric looked worried when he walked Harry back to Gryffindor tower, but Harry held fast to his resolve. 

He was drowning in homework, up until odd hours of the morning getting it done. He would drift off to sleep to the sound of the screams of his nightmares, and when he woke he did not have the luxury of staying awake. Every minute of rest mattered at that point. 

Umbridge found more reasons to prolong his detentions. Harry gritted his teeth and bore it. 

But Thursday the marks refused to heal completely, oozing droplets of crimson blood. 

_What’s one more scar?_ Harry thought, and refused to complain as Umbridge insisted he come back the following night. 

She released him from detention early, and Cedric walked to him happily, greeting him with a hug and pulling him into a soft kiss. Harry blinked in surprise but did not complain, taking notice of Cedric’s broad grin. 

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” He asked, bemused. 

Cedric wrapped his arms around Harry and, as a small squeak of protest escaped Harry, spun him around once, kissing him again, seemingly not caring that the hallway they were in, while empty, was fairly public.

“I love you,” he said, low and soft. “And I just...I had a good day. I’m so glad we’re alive. I love you so much and--” 

Harry cut him off with a kiss, “I love you too, dork.” 

“Hmm, I’m _your_ dork.” 

Harry giggled, entirely unsure of what had come over his boyfriend. He hummed in happiness for a moment as they just stood there, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, drinking in each other’s presence. The waves of happiness coming off Cedric seemed to be almost infectious...he could almost feel something like warmth glowing underneath the cloth on his wrist…

 _“Hem, hem,”_ Harry’s veins turned to rivers of ice. He opened his eyes, pulling away from Cedric and turning to see the scowling, toad-like face of Professor Umbridge. “Clearly,” she said, her voice far harsher than it normally was, the mask of sweetness gone. “The message has not sunk in, Mr. Potter. Your detention has been extended by another week.” 

They both stared at her for a long moment, Harry suddenly unsure if he could actually last that long. He’d been holding on to the idea they would end on Friday...but no, he couldn’t give in. 

“Professor Umbridge you can’t--” 

“Mr. Diggory,” Umbridge’s face twisted into a vindictively triumphant look, “Your impertinence will not be tolerated. That will be twenty points from Hufflepuff house and another three nights of detention for Mr. Potter.” 

Harry pulled at the edge of Cedric’s robe, knowing they had to retreat before either of them made this worse. Cedric cast a furtive glance towards him, his eyes betraying a desire to fight, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Harry shook his head.

“Well?” She sneered at them, “Out of my sight! Both of you!” 

As soon as they reached a more secluded hallway, Cedric turned to him, “I...Harry I’m so sorry. I got you in trouble, again. Merlin...Harry…” 

“Shh,” Harry reached gently to cup Cedric’s cheek, “It’s not your fault Cedric.” 

Cedric scowled, pulling away to lean against the wall, running his fingers through his hair, “Yes, Harry, it is. I should have...I have to be more careful. We have to be more careful, I--” 

“I’m sick of being careful!” Harry shouted, surprised by the urgency in his voice. “Cedric...we...there’s a _war_ coming. It isn’t fair that we have to be careful when other people get to snog in public and nobody cares! It isn’t fair--” 

_It isn’t fair that being my soulmate puts you in danger._

“I cannot bear the thought of this relationship hurting you, Harry,” Cedric’s voice was quiet, but it’s intensity cut through the din of anger confounding Harry. 

He sighed, walking over to Cedric and resting his head on Cedric’s shoulder, sighing with relief as Cedric pulled him closer, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.” 

“Nothing to apologize for, love,” Cedric’s hands brushed through Harry’s hair. “What...what did she mean by the message not sinking in? What line is she making you write, Harry?” 

Harry hesitated, unconsciously pulling away his wounded hand from Cedric’s intertwined fingers. Cedric noticed, his fingers tightening around Harry’s, and Harry could not stop the gasp of pain that escaped him. 

“Merlin!” Cedric swore, pulling his fingers away. “Harry, you’re hurt!” 

He forced his breathing to even out as he cradled his injured hand to his chest, and could only manage a nod. 

“Harry,” Cedric hesitated, his hand resting on Harry’s uninjured one. “Let me see your hand. Please.” 

Harry shook his head, screwing his eyes tight to stop tears from flowing as his eyes watered with pain, “No, I’m fine, really just give me a second. I’m fine.” 

“You’re really not,” Cedric’s hands moved to frame his face and Harry opened his eyes to meet his boyfriend’s intense grey gaze. 

“Cedric...you…” 

_You can’t see this. You’ll just worry, and fight, and get yourself in trouble. You already worry too much, and you’re so busy...I’ve ruined your good day…_

“Harry,” Cedric’s voice had grown serious. 

It was not warm in the same way his voice was when it laughed or smiled; when Cedric was happy his voice was the summer, radiant and balmy. Nor was his voice warm in the way his voice was when he asked Harry if he could kiss him; then, Cedric’s voice was like the spring, warm in a desperately hopeful way. Cedric’s voice was sunshine in winter, holding the kind of warmth that had to be serious and stubborn enough to cut through the cold. 

“I will never, ever judge you for an injury. I will never think less of you. I will never do anything you do not give me permission to do about an injury, except where your life or health is seriously at risk. I am here, Harry, let me in. _Please_.” 

Slowly Harry nodded and withdrew his hand from his robes. Cedric took it in his own gentle fingers, supporting it and turning it over to see the back. He flinched, as if the injury caused _him_ physical pain, and was silent for a very long moment. 

Finally Cedric withdrew his wand, pointing it at the hand and looking at Harry for permission. Harry shook his head, “You can’t heal it, Cedric. She’ll just make it last longer then.” 

Cedric stared at Harry, obviously struggling as he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, “Let me numb the pain,” he said finally, staring into Harry’s eyes desperately, “please Harry.” 

After a brief moment of hesitation, Harry nodded. 

_“Oblivisci Dolorem.”_ Cedric incanted softly, moving his wand in a tight circle around the wound. 

Harry shivered as the magic settled in the circle Cedric had drawn. Against the heat of his inflamed skin the spell was cool, soothing. Moments later it sunk into the wound, tingling not unpleasantly for a moment, then sensation began to fade from that area of his body. It was still there, but it was numb, distant, easier to forget. 

“Thank you,” Harry said softly, sincerely. 

Cedric turned away, his hands tightening into white-knuckled fists. Harry could practically feel the anger rolling off his soulmate in waves. For a long moment they were both silent, the silence hanging in the air tenser than any silence had been between them.

“I’m going to _kill_ that hag of a witch.” 

“Cedric…” Harry reached out, hesitating. 

“She hurt you Harry!” Cedric turned to him, silent tears fighting their way down his face. “And I did nothing to stop it. I hate being helpless to help you! You were hurt and you…” 

“I didn’t tell you,” Harry said, struck with the realization. 

He didn’t tell Cedric about the truth of the Dursleys, he didn’t tell Cedric about the detentions. He chose instead to bear the physical pain alone. Harry took away Cedric’s chance to help, to intervene or offer any support. He put Cedric in the same horrible position he had been in the graveyard--helpless. In trying to protect Cedric, he was hurting him far worse. 

Harry moved across the distance separating them in quick, confident steps, wrapping his arms around his soulmate. 

“I never tell you. Merlin, I’m an asshole. I’m so sorry Cedric.” 

Cedric sighed deeply, drawing Harry closer, “It’s okay Harry. It just kills me to think...you have to tell someone.” 

“No Cedric,” Harry said softly. “We can’t risk the staff--McGonagall, Pomfrey, even Dumbledore going against her. We can’t risk giving her a reason to have the Ministry remove them.” 

“You’re not going to let me tell anyone who can actually help, are you?” 

Harry grimaced, shaking his head, “This is my fight. I can’t let her win.” 

“Harry…” Cedric sighed. “I’m not the only one who should know. Ron and Hermione care about you, a lot. Let them in, let us help you. You’re not fighting alone.” 

“I know.” 

“Will you tell them then?” 

Harry hesitated, then nodded, “I will.” 

* * *

Friday dawned sullen and sodden, keeping with the pattern of the week. Cedric struggled to rise from his bed, tiredness aching in his bones. Another figure had joined the Death Eaters in the graveyard in his nightmare, her disgustingly pink cardigan in stark contrast to their dark robes. Despite appearances, Umbridge fit right in with that horrible group, her laugh a lilting soprano amongst the cacophonous chorus. 

In this dream, unlike the others, Harry did not die with a flash of green light. He bled out, slowly, in Cedric’s arms. Every healing spell he tried to cast was futile, only causing Harry pain. He woke with the laughter and screams still ringing in his ears. 

Cedric muddled through the day. The giddy happiness that had filled him only a day prior was a distant memory, unreachable. At the end of the day he waited for Harry, out of sight from Professor Umbridge’s door, tensing as he heard her voice dismiss him. There was something beyond the usual discomfort in Harry’s gaze. 

“Harry?” 

“My scar hurt when Umbridge touched my hand,” he explained tiredly. “Better now.” 

Cedric frowned but didn’t press. Wrapping one arm around the younger boy’s shoulder he led him away, pulling him into the first alcove he could find to perform the spell again. 

_“Oblivisci Dolorem.”_

Harry’s face turned from a grimace of pain to an expression of relief. Murmuring his thanks, the younger boy pulled Cedric into a hug, resting his head over Cedric’s heart. Cedric just held him for a few, blissful minutes, reassuring himself that Harry was not the cold corpse that haunted his dreams. 

Later, as they were walking back to Gryffindor tower, they both managed smiles that met their eyes. It was hard not to be happy when they had each other to hold on to, to gravitate towards. Harry wasn’t doing great, between the detentions and a lack of sleep Cedric could see he was clearly struggling. Ever since Cedric found out the truth and got Harry to tell Ron and Hermione, however, he seemed to be doing a bit better. 

“Oh, and Cedric,” Harry said before he turned to leave. “Meet me Sunday at the Kitchen fruit portrait at...eleven.” 

_What are you planning on my birthday?_ Cedric wondered, smiling, “A specific meeting on September 6th. Not suspicious at all.” 

Harry just grinned. 

* * *

Harry fidgeted a bit, checking his watch. It was three minutes until he had told Cedric to meet him at the Kitchen entrance, and Cedric was the kind of person who considered showing up ten minutes earlier being on time. Irrationally his thoughts began to wander, wondering if something had gone horribly wrong, if Cedric was hurt…

At that moment Cedric turned the corner, drawing Harry abruptly from his worry. Cedric walked up to him, smiling widely. Seeing that there was no one around he swept Harry into a hug, waiting for his silent consent before pressing a kiss gently against his lips. 

“Good morning,” Harry beamed, tickling the pear. For a moment all his worries seemed small, he was riding a wave of satisfaction at having managed to do something for Cedric. Merlin knows Cedric deserved it. 

“‘Good morning’ is it?” 

By way of answer, Harry opened the door. Ron, Hermione, Cho, Gavin, James and a few Hufflepuffs had gathered in the kitchens--Dobby helped Harry and Cho set this up--to celebrate. Hermione had insisted they help the house elves with the cake, though Harry was pretty sure they had just made Dobby’s job more difficult. 

Not that Dobby hadn’t been ecstatic about that too. 

Harry wished he had a little more than a photo of himself and a little mint plant--which Hagrid had helped him transplant from his garden into a pot--to give to Cedric. If the party and gifts were modest Cedric didn’t seem to mind one bit however; he was beaming with happiness.

At the insistence and pestering of their friends, Harry gave Cedric another present: a kiss. Later he would learn that at this exact moment, Hermione used the camera she had borrowed from Colin Creevey, capturing the moment forever. And, with the cheers and acceptance of their friends surrounding them like a happy bubble, it was a pretty spectacular gift to them both. 

For just a moment life was easy and pain was a distant memory of a distant nightmare of a distant darkness. 

_I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society,_ Umbridge had made him write. 

_I am not disgusting,_ Harry thought firmly, his words echoing deep within the caverns of his soul with certainty. _Love is beautiful. I am not immoral. I am fighting for a better world for the people I love._

 _I must not tell lies..._ But the truth was simple. 

_I am in love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back from the break :)  
> A big shout out to Tree Spiral, the beta for this project!


	7. How Do You Want To Die?

**Chapter 7: How Do You Want To Die?**

Harry spent Sunday holed up in the library with Cedric, both of them struggling to stay awake and swamped with homework. It was difficult to focus with the pain in his hand and Cedric insisted on reapplying the spell a second time, once again saying that it would be so much easier if he could just heal it. Steadfast in his resolve, Harry shook his head. 

Surprisingly, it was Hermione who dragged them out of the library. It wasn’t healthy, she insisted, to spend all of a nice day inside the library. Harry, realizing Cedric wasn’t taking care of himself, immediately joined her in convincing Cedric to take a break. Cedric muttered he was a hypocrite, but eventually relented. 

Ron and Harry went on ahead to the Quidditch pitch for some extra practice, Hermione promising to come along once _actual_ practice started. At Angelina’s assistance Harry was supposed to keep Cedric away, as he was Hufflepuff captain. Cedric pouted a bit, but relented when Harry gave him a kiss. 

After practice Harry broke away from his friends for a bit, going on a long walk about the grounds with Cedric for an hour or so. It was nice, keeping to the edges of where most people roamed they could avoid the usual stares. It was secluded from Umbridge, so they showed affection with reckless abandon. 

That evening Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room with Ron. They were both struggling to catch up with homework--Harry significantly less thanks to Cedric’s help. A letter arrived from Percy, dampening their moods for a bit. 

When he caught a glimpse of Sirius’ head in the fire, Harry almost thought he was going insane and hallucinating, finally cracking under a lack of sleep. But it was indeed Sirius, who had been trying to contact them for several hours. Hermione scolded Harry’s grandfather for his recklessness and Harry couldn’t help agreeing, for a sickening moment imagining what would happen if Sirius was caught. Conversation turned to Harry’s scar hurting during detention with Umbridge, Sirius assured them it was probably not a major cause for concern. 

“I know her reputation and I’m sure she’s no Death Eater--” 

“She’s foul enough to be one,” Harry said darkly, Ron and Hermione nodding their agreement. “She gives me and Cedric a hard time of it for being er, queer I guess. According to her I’m immoral and disgusting.” 

Something dark flashed in Sirius’ expression, “Harry James Potter you are no such--” 

“I know,” Harry cut his godfather off. “She’s just…” 

“Foul.” Hermione repeated. 

“Yes...but the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters…” 

Sirius went on to talk about Umbridge, telling them about the Anti-Werewolf bill that she had passed, making it almost impossible for Remus to get a job. Harry felt another level added to his deepening anger and resentment towards the Professor. They explained to Sirius what her lessons were like, and Sirius said that made sense. Apparently the Minister was under the impression that Dumbledore was attempting to build an army. 

After they had exhausted matters concerning the Order, Sirius turned to him, concern evident on his face, “Are you feeling okay, Harry?” 

“Hmm?” Harry yawned, “Not sleeping well--me and Cedric both. Don’t worry too much, we’re looking after each other.” 

Sirius smiled fondly, “I’m sure you are Harry. Hold on to that, all of you, the friendship and love that you share. Harry...what you and I talked about...well, I think you were right. I think us adults have started losing sight of something, something you all hold on to, despite what you’ve been through.” 

“Thanks, Sirius.” 

“When’s your next Hogsmeade weekend anyway?” Sirius asked. “I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn’t we? I thought I could –“

“NO!” Harry and Hermione said at once. 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Harry added. 

“Alright,” Sirius frowned. “Just an idea, thought you might like to get together. I’d like to see you before Christmas.” 

“I would, Merlin, you must know that, I just don’t want you chucked back in Azkaban!” 

There was a pause in which Sirius looked out of the fire at Harry, a crease between his sunken eyes. “You’re less like your father than I thought,” he said finally, his voice unusually colder. “The risk would’ve been what made it fun for James.”

_What?_

“Look –“

“Well, I’d better get going, I’ll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?”

There was a tiny _pop,_ and the place where Sirius’ head had been was once more nothing but flickering flame. Inevitably, in the following days, life could only get worse. 

* * *

**MINISTRY SEEK EDUCATION REFORM**

**DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER “HIGH INQUISITOR”**

* * *

After Divination, which was being inspected by Umbridge as High Inquisitor, Harry went to Defense Against the Dark Arts determined to give her no excuses to assign more detentions. Cedric had made him promise he would at least try to keep his head down. This plan failed spectacularly; Hermione asked questions, lost five points for Gyrffindor, and led Umbridge to say that Quirrell was the best defense teacher they had before her. 

“Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher,” Harry said loudly, “there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.” 

The silence that followed this was one of the loudest Harry had ever heard. 

“I think another week’s detention would do you some good, Mr. Potter.” 

* * *

_I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society and I must not tell lies._

_I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society and I must not tell lies_

_I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society and I must not tell lies_

_I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society and I must not tell lies_

_I must not be a disgusting, immoral disturbance to society and I must not tell lies…_

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Cedric finally saw Harry come out of Umbridge’s office. They walked back to Gryffindor tower wordlessly, Harry leaning heavily on him for support. He was growing increasingly worried about Harry’s hand, which was now bleeding badly enough to soak through the cloth he had found to bandage it. 

“Harry…” Cedric trailed off, staring at Harry’s haggard face. Between his nightmares, in which there was apparently a new dream about a door at the end of a long corridor, and Umbridge’s detentions, Harry wasn’t sleeping enough by any measurement. 

Not that Cedric was doing much better. 

“Sirius said something yesterday,” Harry’s voice was distant, small. “I didn’t want him to risk visiting Hogsmeade, he said...the risk would have made it fun for James, my dad. I think he’s disappointed in me. I just, I don’t know if I can be my dad.” 

Something in Cedric’s heart tightened, memories of years of his father’s expectations echoing back on him. Those expectations had driven him to success from the classroom to the Quidditch pitch, but not before they had almost torn him apart with anxiety. 

“Harry,” Cedric said softly, “you can’t. You’re not James Potter. You’re Harry Potter, and pretty amazing for it. Sirius is...mourning someone very close to his heart, but that doesn’t change anything. I love you, Sirius loves you. You don’t have to be anyone you’re not to earn that.” 

Harry leaned into him with a hug, almost desperately. Cedric pulled him closer, and belatedly realized the younger boy was crying. Startled, but immediately concerned, Cedric did his best to comfort him, all the while wishing he could to more. 

“Stay….please…just for a bit. I don’t want to be alone.” 

Cedric hesitated for only a moment. 

Hermione and Ron were waiting for Harry inside, and they barely commented on Cedric's presence in the Gryffindor common room. Thankfully this late there was no one else to object. Cedric sat down on a sofa next to Harry, wrapping an arm gently around his shoulders. Hermione had the solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles Cedric had recommended for Harry’s hand. 

“She’s an awful woman,” Hermione said softly. “ _Awful._ You know, Ron and I were talking when you guys came in...we’ve got to do something about her.” 

“I suggest poison,” Ron said. 

Cedric grimaced, “What can we do Hermione? As Head Boy I’ve complained to Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall and even the Headmaster. Umbridge’s detentions are far longer than what is written into the Handbook rules as standard, her class is useless, but there’s nothing they can do without risking their own positions.” 

“My point is,” Hermione said slowly, meeting his eyes. “She’s a dreadful teacher, we’re not going to learn any defense from her at all.” 

“Well, yeah, but what can we do about that?” Ron yawned. “Cedric said it, we can’t exactly get rid of her.” 

“Well I was thinking,” Hermione began tentatively. “Cedric, weren’t you saying just the other day even a student would be a better teacher than Umbridge?” 

“Yeah,” Cedric agreed, somewhat confused. “What are you suggesting?” 

“I was thinking maybe the time’s come when we should just do it ourselves.” 

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione as she tried to explain, but Cedric was lost in thought for a moment. Ideas were rapidly forming, taking shape, and fitting together in his head. 

“We need a teacher,” Cedric said softly. 

Hermione nodded, “A proper one.” 

“If you’re talking about Remus..” Harry trailed off.

“No, no, I’m not talking about Lupin,” Hermione said. “He’s too busy with the Order and anyways, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends, and that’s not nearly often enough.” 

Harry frowned at her,“Who, then?” 

“It’s it obvious?” Cedric looked at Harry seriously. “She’s talking about _you,_ Harry.” 

Harry stared at them. Cedric, Hermione, and Ron began to point out his strengths, pointing out what he had survived. _Come on, Harry,_ Cedric thought. _You can do this. You know you can._

“Second year,” Ron continued, “you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle.” 

“Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn’t turned up I--” 

“Third year,” Ron said, louder than Harry had spoken, “You fought off about a hundred dementors at once--” 

“You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn’t--” 

“Last year,” Ron was almost shouting, “you fought off You-Know-Who. Again.” 

Both Harry and Cedric flinched. 

“Don’t sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn’t I?” Harry was scowling at Ron and Hermione, on his feet. “I know what went on, all right? And I didn’t get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because…” He turned to stare at Cedric for a moment. “Because help came at the right time. Or because I got lucky. I blundered through all of that, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. Stop grinning like idiots and listen to me!” 

_Harry..._ Cedric hesitated, unsure of how to help. 

Ron and Hermione’s smiles vanished. 

_“You don’t know what it’s like!”_ Harry’s voice was shaking now, tearing apart and breaking at the seams with emotion. “You--neither of you--you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you’re sure you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own, your own brains or guts or whatever, like you can think straight when you know...when you know you’re about a second away from being murdered, or tortured, or watching you’re friends...die...” Harry’s voice broke. 

“Harry,” Cedric was on his feet in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around his soulmate. “Shh, Harry, listen to me.” He broke apart slightly, framing Harry’s face with his hands and looking intently into his eyes, “They don’t understand, and you can’t make them understand, but you can help them prepare to face it. You can give them...you can give them a chance to fight back. You won’t always be there...you won’t always be there to protect us. We wouldn’t have made it out of...out of the graveyard without the knowledge we had going in. Give them a chance to survive Harry.” 

“Okay,” Harry said softly, leaning into Cedric. “I’ll think about it. You need to get back to Hufflepuff now though.” 

Cedric pressed a soft kiss against Harry’s forehead, “Goodnight, love.” 

* * *

Harry, quite simply put, was terrified. He had been marginally prepared to talk to a handful, maybe, say, five people. He was even expecting Cedric might bring Gavin and James in. What had gathered could only reasonably be described as a _crowd._

“A couple of people?” Harry said hoarsely, turning to Hermione and Cedric. “A _couple of people_?” 

“Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular,” Hermione said happily. “Ron, Cedric, do you want to pull up some more chairs?” 

The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out glasses, staring. Harry wondered if this was the fullest the pub had ever been. 

“Hi,” Fred said cheerfully, reaching the bar and counting his companions quickly. “Could we have...thirty-seven butterbeers, please?” 

As the gathered people settled Harry turned to Hermione, “What have you been telling people?” he asked in a low voice. “What are they expecting?” 

“I’ve told you, they just want to hear what you’ve got to say, you don’t have to do anything, I’ll speak to them first,” Turning to the crowd, which had quickly surrounded them, Hermione took a deep breath. “Er, well--er--hi.” 

_This is going to go bloody fantastic, isn’t it?_

“Well...erm...well, you know why you’re here. Erm...well, Harry had the idea--I mean--myself and Cedric really--had the idea that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts--and I mean really study it, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us,” Hermione’s voice grew steadier, “because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts, well, I thought it would be a good idea if we, well, took matters into our own hands. And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but real spells--” 

“You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L too though, I bet?” Micheal Corner said, watching Hermione closely. 

“Of course I do,” Hermione said at once. “But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because...because…” She took a great breath and turned to Cedric, who met her eyes and nodded, “Because Lord Voldemort has returned.” 

Everyone, bar Harry and Cedric, reacted. All of them, however, quickly recovered and looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry. 

“Well...that’s the plan anyways,” Hermione continued. “If you want to join us, we need to decide how we’re going to--” 

“Where’s the proof You-Know-Who’s back?” a blonde Hufflepuff in Harry’s year asked, rather aggressively. 

“Well, Dumbledore believes it--” 

“You mean, Dumbledore believes _them_ ,” He said, pointing a finger at where Harry and Cedric sat together. 

“Smith,” Cedric said, his voice chillingly even. 

“I think we’ve got the right to know exactly what makes you two say You-Know-Who’s back.” 

Harry sighed, knowing he should have expected this. 

“Look,” Hermione intervened, “that’s really not what this meeting was supposed to be about--” 

“It’s okay, Hermione,” Harry said firmly. 

_I must not tell lies._

“What makes us say Voldemort is back?” he repeated, looking Smith straight in the face, “I saw him. So did Cedric. He captured us and we escaped. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn’t believe him, you don’t believe me now, and I’m not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.” 

The whole group seemed to have held its breath as he talked; Harry got the impression that even the barman was listening. 

Smith continued dismissively, “All Dumbledore told us last year was that you risked your lives for each other and escaped You-Know-Who. He didn’t give us details, he didn’t tell us exactly what happened. I think we’d all like to know--” 

“No,” Cedric’s voice practically rumbled. “As much as you might honestly believe you would like to know the details, you don’t,” Harry found himself grateful his boyfriend had stepped in, his temper was close to a boiling point. “It was horrific. Neither Harry nor myself fancies talking about it, reliving it _one singular bit._ So if that’s what you’re looking for, clear out.” 

Harry shot a glare in Hermione’s direction. None of them left their seats, not even Smith, and their gazes never wandered from Cedric and Harry. A series of random glances passed between Hermione, Harry, and Cedric then, a silent conversation that left them all confused, unmoving. 

“We’re just in school,” someone pointed out, “is this _really_ necessary? Even if You-Know-Who is back, why is it our problem?” 

Cedric stood up, letting go of Harry’s hand and facing the room, “Voldemort _is_ back. Do any of you ever _talk_ to your parents about the First War? Do any of you ever think about why Harry’s year and up have such ridiculously small classes compared to the others? The world descended into darkness, no one was safe. People died, and worse. And now Voldemort is _back._ That is the reality we live in. It no longer matters whether we’re old enough for this.” He turned to each person in the room, his words confident and smooth. 

To someone who didn’t know him well, Cedric would have sounded completely calm. Harry could feel the undercurrent of fear, was sure that it was partially the fuel for the fiery power of his speech. He held the gathered people captive with his words, Harry doubted they could have tuned him out if they’d tried. 

“When they come--and make no mistake about it, if you and your families do not side with them, they will--how do you want to die? Do you want to be helpless as you watch those you love in pain? Do you want to die cowering, giving them, giving _Lord Voldemort_ , the satisfaction of watching you beg? Well, do you? How. Do. You. Want. To. Die.” 

With each word Cedric turned to face a different student, meeting their eyes with a steady gaze. He punctuated his words clearly, giving them a few heartbeats to settle into the air. Cedric’s voice was no longer calm. It was rippling with emotions--fear, anger, determination, love. His presence in the room seemed to grow...seemed to swirl with an almost magical force in the room...like a storm…

“I can tell you how _he_ wants you to die, he wants you to submit. He wants you to...he wants you to bow to Death,” Cedric cast a glance over his shoulder then, meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry silently willed him onwards, and Cedric did. “It may be less painful that way, but you’ll be just as dead. How do you want to die? Do you want to die quickly, or do you want to fight? If we fight--and we _can_ fight, because we have something worth fighting for--we can take something back from him. 

“Lord Voldemort is determined to rule over us, to bring this country to its knees. He wants to break us, to have us surrendering before we’ve even picked up our wands. If we can have the courage to stand, to face the horror of the world and stare it down, we forever take total victory, total power, away from him. We’re stronger together. So, how _do_ you want to die?” 

“Nobody can stand up to You-Know-Who like that,” someone muttered. 

“That’s not true,” Cedric said firmly, walking back over to Harry and sitting down, interlacing their fingers. He turned back, meeting the students’ gaze. “Voldemort wants you to believe it is, but it isn’t. I’ve seen someone stand up to Lord Voldemort _like that_ , and he’s sitting right here in this room. In fact, he’s still alive. So I guess the real question is this; do you want to live?” 

Harry, like everyone in the room, stared at Cedric for a long, quiet moment, at a complete loss for words. 

“What _can_ you teach us?” someone asked finally. “What do we learn if we want to stand a chance?” 

“Um...well I…” Harry trailed off. 

“Is it true,” a girl with a long plait down her back broke the silence, looking towards Harry, “that you can produce a Patronus?” 

A murmur of interest passed through the group, breaking them out of their stupor. Cedric’s words lingered on in their minds, even as they turned to anything else for a distraction, they were inescapable. Cedric had finally articulated something they were forced to listen to. 

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly, if a little defensively. 

“A corporeal Patronus?” 

“Yes.” 

“Blimey, Harry! I never knew that!” 

Before Harry knew what was happening the tone of the room had shifted; suddenly the Basilisk was getting brought up, then the Sorcerer's stone, and even the Triwizard tasks. 

_Time to speak my piece,_ He thought grimly. Cedric gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as he stood up. 

“Alright, stop!” He snapped finally, glaring at them and standing up. “Yes, I’ve survived the past four years. Do _not_ make any of that into what it isn’t. I nearly always had help, I never knew what I was doing and I...I was always terrified out of my mind. I never escaped completely unscathed. Out there…” he trailed off, and found himself turning to Cedric. 

_Darkness._ An image, a twisted mixture of memory and nightmare, flashed against his vision. The night pressed in on the graveyard, split by a momentary flash of green. Cedric lying unmoving. 

“People die,” He said softly, turning back to the group. “And you hear about the survivors more than you do the victims,” He felt himself turning to Neville, their eyes meeting steadily for a moment. “When you’re a mistake away from being tortured, or losing someone you love…” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to brace himself. “It’s not like school. It’s not a homework sheet you can redo or a test you can retake. You don’t know what that’s like...I can’t _teach_ you what that’s like.” 

“No one can teach that,” Cedric agreed quietly. “But you can teach them how to survive it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to Tree Spiral, the amazing beta for this project!


	8. Battles You Can't Win

**Chapter 8: Battles You Can't Win**

BY ORDER OF

THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

All student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded. 

An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students. 

Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge). 

No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor. 

Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled. 

* * *

“Are you alright, Harry?” Cedric asked, catching up with them after dinner. 

The only real victory of the day had been managing to hold his temper in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had to get a permission slip from Umbridge herself--difficult with Harry on the team. Sirius wanted to talk to him again but Harry was worried the fireplaces were being watched. In potions Malfoy and his cronies had taken a shot at Cedric and Harry, nothing new, but still annoying. And, of course, Hagrid was still missing. 

Harry sighed, “Stressed. Umbridge doesn’t want to let us play Quidditch.” 

“Yeah,” Cedric grimaced. “I went to ask for Hufflepuff today. It wasn’t easy, she doesn’t like me much and I had to be the one who asked as the captain. She made all sorts of thinly veiled threats about…” 

“About?” Harry prompted. 

“About you, really,” Cedric muttered, leaning tiredly against a wall. “Tried to insinuate I was mentally disturbed or that you were...coercing me into disurbed ideas. It was weird, and honestly a bit frightening. But she gave us permission in the end. Don’t worry, I’m sure they can’t keep just one team from playing.” 

Harry sighed, “I dunno Cedric. Please, be careful. For my sake, if nothing else.” 

Cedric smiled sadly, “Only if you do the same, Harry. Now come on, that homework isn't going to do itself.” 

* * *

Later that evening, when Cedric had left them in the Gryffindor common room, Sirius’ head reappeared in the fire. To Harry’s slight surprise Sirius was supportive of the idea of forming the Defense Club, despite the misgivings of the Weasley matriarch. Alarmingly, however, the meeting was cut short by Umbridge’s hand, which abruptly appeared in the floo. 

Hermione was of the opinion Umbridge was also reading his mail, based on the injured state Hedwig had arrived in several days prior. If it was possible, the depth of his anger towards the toad of a woman grew. It was clear fire calls were too dangerous now and letters to Remus or Sirius were not safe. So Harry was stripped of the guidance of the closest thing he had to parental figures. 

And that sucked. 

His mood was significantly improved by Angelina, who informed them they had permission to reform the Quidditch team and practice. Quidditch was a welcome distraction, even if the rain was horrible and left them all soaked and cold.

As he was changing, his scar throbbed with pain. A flash of unfamiliar anger hit him squarely in the chest, anger that didn’t belong to his own mind.  _ Voldemort  _ was angry. Harry grimaced. He didn’t exactly have spectacular control of his own emotions, the last thing he needed was someone else’s emotions shoved into the mix. 

Particularly when said emotions came from a psychopathic, homicidal maniac. 

In his nightmares, he returned to the graveyard. But as the dream was drawing to a close, as the darkness surrounded him and drowned him, he did not wake up. Harry opened his eyes in a long, dark corridor with no windows and a solitary door at the end. As desperately as he tried, he could not reach the door. 

* * *

Harry left Umbridge’s detention late again, some hour close to the middle of the night. Cedric healed his hand--he had insisted on performing more than the Pain-Numbing charm after the wound started to get infected--and they began the long walk back to Gryffindor tower. 

At least, that’s where Harry expected to go. 

“Where are we going Cedric?” he asked as Cedric turned down a corridor that led away from Gryffindor tower.

“Kitchens,” Cedric said softly, “I think we could both do with a mug of cocoa.” 

And that, Harry really couldn’t argue with. With everything going on that September he was starting to feel like he was just propelled through the days by sheer momentum. Umbridge was making this year at Hogwarts hell and they were still struggling to find a proper meeting place for the DA. He was exhausted, struggling to properly sleep at night. Cedric wasn’t much better, stressed as he was about his N.E.W.T.s and end of the year Healer interview. Both of them could stand to relax for a bit. 

Dobby greeted them enthusiastically when they came in, and within minutes they were both sitting down, warm mugs in hand. Dobby did not move however, looking at Harry for a long moment with concern in his eyes. “Harry Potter does not seem happy,” he observed.

Harry sighed, fighting back a yawn, “I’m okay Dobby. It’s been worse.” 

_ I have Cedric now... _

The vast eyes of his elf friend did not waver. Then he said very seriously, his ears drooping, “Dobby wishes he could help Harry Potter, for Harry Potter set Dobby free and Dobby is much much happier now…” 

Harry smiled, “You can’t help me, Dobby, but thanks for the offer…” 

He turned to his cocoa, taking a long drink. With a deep sigh he thought of the homework waiting for him back in Gryffindor tower, he doubted he’d be able to get much done that night. Accidently he moved his injured hand and let out an involuntary gasp of pain, a white hot twinge traveling up his arm. 

“Harry!” Cedric said, alarmed. 

“It’s okay,” Harry said through gritted teeth, moving the hand to rest on the table. The light illuminated the abused flesh, the result of long hours of detention with Umbridge.  _ Umbridge!  _ “Wait a moment,” he said, turning abruptly to Dobby, “there  _ is  _ something you can do for me, Dobby.” 

The elf looked around, beaming, “Name it, Harry Potter, sir!” 

“I need to find a place where thirty-two people can practice Defense Against the Dark Arts without being discovered by any of the teachers. Especially,” Harry felt his hand clench involuntarily, then immediately relaxed as that stretched the cuts painfully, “Professor Umbridge.” 

He hadn’t really expected Dobby to have a solution. He expected the elf’s smile to vanish, his ears to droop; he expected him to say this was impossible...but, despite his expectations, Dobby immediately perked up, clapping his hands together happily. 

“Dobby knows the perfect place, sir! Dobby heard tell of it from the other house-elves when he came to Hogwarts sir. It is known by us as the Come and Go Room, sir, or else as the Room of Requirement.” 

* * *

Luckily Harry had finally reached a supposed end to his detentions or he had no idea when they would meet with the defense group. Time would tell if she would assign more, but for now Harry was grateful for the reprieve. He’d even managed to get a handful of unbroken, if still restless, hours of sleep the night before. 

They had spent most of the day seeking out those people who had signed their names to the list in the Hog’s Head. By the end of dinner he was confident that the news had been passed to every one of the people who had turned up at the initial meeting. 

Half an hour before eight o'clock Harry walked to the seventh floor corridor near the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.  _ We need somewhere to learn to fight... _ he thought, walking back and forth in front of the empty wall.  _ Just give us a place to practice...somewhere they can’t find us… _

Harry opened the door that appeared, leading the way into the spacious room. It was illuminated by flickering torch light, the walls were lined with defense texts, and instead of chairs, there were silk cushions strewn across the floor. 

Cedric arrived only minutes later, leading several Hufflepuffs along with him. Harry smiled, walking over to him and greeting him with a hug. “This place is brilliant, Harry,” he said, looking around. 

More people began to arrive then, asking for an explanation about what the room was. Harry began to explain, but was forced to begin again as more trickled. It was the general opinion that the room was perfect. When eight o’clock finally arrived Harry went to the door and turned the key, pleased to find it locked with a loud and firm click. 

“I think we ought to elect a leader,” Hermione said. 

“What?” Harry turned to his friend quizzically. 

“Harry’s the leader,” Cedric said, almost immediately. 

“What?” Harry repeated, a little more forcefully. 

“Yes, but we ought to vote on it properly.” Hermione said, unperturbed. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So--everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?” 

Everybody put their hands up, and Harry was left with no choice but to accept. Cedric was practically beaming at him. A few moments later Hermione was pinning up the list of their names to the wall with the name DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY written across the top of it. 

“Right,” Harry said, turning to the group at large, “shall we get practicing then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is  _ Expelliarmus _ , you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it’s pretty basic but I’ve found it really useful--” 

“Oh  _ please, _ ” Smith said, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. “I don’t think  _ Expelliarmus  _ is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?” 

“Smith…” Cedric glared at his fellow Hufflepuff, obviously holding his tongue from saying more. 

“Cedric,” Harry cut him off, shaking his head, then turned to Smith. “I’ve used it against  _ him _ ,” Harry said quietly. “It saved my life in June.” Smith opened his mouth stupidly, and the rest of the room turned very quiet. “But if you think it’s beneath you, you can leave.” 

Smith did not move. Nor did anyone else. 

Harry had the group pair off to practice for the rest of the class. Cedric waited to see who would end up partnerless, ending up paired with Neville. Harry was glad Cedric was there, the odd number gave him the freedom to roam without a partner, offering help as he went. Some partners struggled to work together, while some, like Gavin and James, seemed to work together like it was second nature. It was a good thing he had suggested they work on the basics first, he saw a lot of shoddy spell work that needed improvement. 

About halfway through the class Neville, prompted by Cedric's guidance and advice, managed a proper  _ Expelliarmus.  _ Harry was sure to encourage him and continued to move about the room, smiling as they all slowly improved. There was a lot to work on, but there were already hints of what they could become. 

_ Watch out Tom,  _ he thought to himself.  _ We’re not going down without a fight.  _

Cedric walked over to them as people began to file out, “That went really well, Harry. You’re a good teacher.” 

Harry shrugged, “I was just there. Everyone helped out. Plus, you already know this stuff Cedric, you could honestly probably teach better than me.” 

“Don’t discredit yourself, love,” Cedric said softly. “I’m here to help when you want me to, but I need practice too. And people listen to you, they really do. You’re good at teaching.” 

Harry blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Er, thanks.” 

Cedric winked at him, turning to leave and blowing him a kiss, “Anytime. Goodnight, Harry.” 

* * *

The next two weeks were easier for Harry. The knowledge that they were finally doing something to rebel against Umbridge was a secret that he carried in his heart like a talisman, repelling bad energy. It made it possible to carry through her horrible Defense classes and keep his anger in check; consequently he was able to avoid more detentions. 

The meetings for Dumbledore’s Army often shifted; they had to schedule around the practices of three separate Quidditch teams, which were often rearranged due to the weather conditions. Harry was not sorry about this, he had a feeling it was probably better to keep the timing of their meetings unpredictable. Hermione sooned devised a system with fake Galleons for alerting everyone of the meeting times, making this easier to accomplish. 

Cedric too seemed to be in a far better state of mind as the days marched on--though he was increasingly tense and stressed about his N.E.W.T.s. Harry and Cedric ended up in the library a lot, both for studying and DA lesson planning. The second meeting Cedric had prepared several First Aid kits, helpful when they started doing actual practice duels. Using the knowledge he had gathered to prepare for the Healer apprenticeship Cedric was also able to teach several first aid lessons, knowledge Harry hoped they would never have to use. Cedric had naturally fallen into a sort of second-in-command position with the DA that no one had questioned, and Harry was eternally grateful for his presence. 

Harry found himself cherishing each and every one of the moments they did have together, which were still too few and far between in his opinion. Avoiding Umbridge was difficult, but necessary. Perhaps if it had only been his own safety at risk Harry would have been braver about their openness, but he refused to drag Cedric any further into danger than necessary. So they held onto the moments they had. 

October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold and frozen. The skies turned a pale blue, almost gray, that reminded Harry of Cedric’s eyes, and the mountains surrounding Hogwarts were soon blanketed in snow. As the temperature in the castle dropped Cedric helped Harry, Ron, and Hermione place stronger warming charms within their winter clothes. 

The night before the first Quidditch match Harry found himself in the Gryffindor common room, leaning against Cedric’s shoulder as he read from a book. Cedric’s presence in the Gryffindor common room was regular enough that by this point they only got a few weird glances. 

“I’m sure you’ll do great tomorrow,” Cedric said softly. 

“Thanks,” Harry yawned, closing his book. 

Ron sighed, “It’s not him we need to worry about.” 

“Oh hush Ronald,” Hermione chastised him. 

Cedric smiled, “You too, Ron. Slytherins talk a big game and cheat like mad, but they seem worse than they are. You’ll get through it just fine.” 

* * *

Cedric, watching anxiously from the Quidditch stands, began to reflect that he had been a bit wrong in his assessment the previous night. The Slytherins were chanting a rather crass chant from the stands at Ron, and it was getting to him. Gryffindor was hardly doing “fine.” When Harry finally caught the Snitch it was practically mercy, and Cedric found himself sighing in relief. 

And just at that moment a Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of the back, sending him flying off his broom. Cedric’s heart lurched in his chest, the fact that Harry was only a handful of feet off the ground didn’t immediately register to his panicked mind. Cedric leapt to his feet as Hooch’s shrill whistle cut through the air. 

“--but you like the Weasleys, don’t you Potter?” Cedric rushed onto the field to see Harry and George facing Malfoy, George barely held back by Harry. Even from yards away he could feel the tension bristling between them. “Spend holidays there and everything, don’t you? Can’t see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you’ve been raised up by Muggles even the Weasley’s hovel smells okay--and oh, look here’s Fairy Boy, come to defend you.” 

Harry whirled around, maintaining his grip on George’s arm, “Cedric.” 

Cedric, frantically looking around for Madam Hooch, did not get the chance to speak before Malfoy cut in again. 

“Or perhaps,” Malfoy said, leering as he backed away, “you can remember what  _ your  _ mother’s house stank like, Potter, and Weasley’s pigsty reminds you of it--” 

Cedric saw red. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to  _ hurt  _ Malfoy, but Harry, oh Merlin, what was Harry feeling? Cedric had to stop Harry--he would get himself in trouble. Umbridge would--

Before Cedric could react Harry and George were sprinting forward, Harry was drawing back to punch Malfoy...people were screaming, swearing...Cedric did the one thing he could think of…

_ “IMPEDIMENTA!”  _ he roared, doing something he never thought he would do: pointing his wand at his soulmate. 

Except his spell didn’t hit Harry--Harry, having practiced this at several DA meetings--dodged. Cedric’s spell hit Malfoy squarely in the chest, the force of it knocking him backwards onto the ground. Cedric swore. 

_ “Impedimenta!”  _

_ That  _ spell hit Harry, sending him crashing to the ground a few feet away from Malfoy just as Cedric finally reached them. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Madam Hooch screamed as Harry, with Cedric’s help, got to his feet. Malfoy was curled up in the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody. George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the Gryffindor team, and Crabbe was cackling. “I’ve never seen behavior like it--especially from you  _ Mr. Diggory! _ Back up to the castle, all three of you, and straight to your Head Of Houses’ offices. Go! Now!” 

Harry, George, and Cedric marched off the quidditch pitch, the sound of the jeering crowd slowly fading behind them. They walked along without a single word to each other for several minutes, it was only once they were out of sight of the pitch that Harry rounded on him. 

“What the hell was that Cedric?!” he demanded, scowling. 

“I was trying to stop you!” 

“ _ That  _ much was clear. Bloody fine job you did of it!” 

“Harry--” George’s voice, practically a whisper compared to their shouts, was ignored as Cedric cut him off. 

“You can’t afford to get in trouble right now Harry. Umbridge--” 

“Cedric--” Again, George was ignored. 

“ _ I _ can’t afford to get in trouble right now, Cedric? What about you, Mr. Head Boy? You have a whole hell of a lot farther to fall than I do. And now you’re dragged into this mess! I was fine, I had it sorted--” 

Cedric threw his hands up in exasperation, “Ah, yes, I could tell by the way you let Malfoy get a rise out of you--exactly what he wanted--and got into a fistfight with him in front of  _ the entire school. _ ” 

“He deserved it!” 

“Of course he deserved it! That doesn’t mean it was worth putting yourself in danger Harry.” 

“I can take care of myself!” 

“Clearly, since you’re doing such a--” 

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!” George roared, glaring at them. “He insulted my parents, and Harry’s mother,” 

“--and my boyfriend!” Harry cut in. 

George inclined his head in agreement, “And he deserved every bit of that. But now we have to deal with the consequences. So let’s just get the hell up to McGonagall’s office.” 

“I’ll walk with you there,” Cedric sighed. “I have a feeling Sprout will be with McGonagall.” 

They had barely reached the door of Professor McGonagall’s office when she and Professor Sprout came marching along the corridor behind them. They were livid. 

“In!” Professor McGonagall commanded, pointing to the door. The three of them entered, followed closely by the professors, who strode to the other side of the desk.  _ “Well?”  _ McGonagall demanded, quivering with rage. “We have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition. Three on one! Explain yourselves.” 

“Malfoy provoked us,” Harry said stiffly. 

“He insulted my parents,” George repeated, “And Harry’s mother.” 

Professor Sprout stared at them, then heaved a long, tired sigh. “But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch, you three decided to attack him? Mr. Diggory, what were you even doing on the pitch?” 

Cedric almost visibly flinched. Sprout was his Head of House, but she was so much more. She was his teacher, his mentor, someone who had listened and guided him when he was at his absolute lowest point. She was the one who had first set him on the track to applying for a Healer Apprenticeship. She was the one who had believed in him. 

To hear her call him  _ Mr. Diggory  _ in a voice of absolute disappointment hurt worse than a physical blow. 

“I…” he trailed off, having no words to explain what had just happened. “It was an accident.” 

“Cedric wasn’t trying to hurt Malfoy,” Harry offered quietly, “he was trying to stop me.” 

_ “Hem, hem.”  _

The three of them wheeled around. Dolores Umbridge was standing in the doorway, her face split in a horribly sickening grin--an expression Cedric had taken to interpreting as a sign of only one thing: imminent and horrible misery. 

“May I help, Professor McGonagall, Sprout?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet. 

Professor McGonagall’s scowl, if possible, deepened, “Help? What do you mean, help?” 

“Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority,” she continued, stepping into the office. “These are three obviously very...troubled boys.” 

“You thought wrong,” Professor Sprout said, her voice colder than Cedric had ever heard it. 

Professor McGonagall turned to the three of them, “Now, you three had better listen closely. I do not care what provocation Malfoy offered you, I do not care if he insulted every family member you possess, your behavior was disgusting and you are all being assigned a week’s worth of detention! Do not look at me like that--” 

_ “Hem, hem.”  _

Professor McGonagall slowly turned back to Professor Umbridge,  _ “Yes?”  _

“I think they rather deserve more than detentions.” 

“But unfortunately,” Professor McGonagall said, with no attempt at a smile, “it is what Professor Sprout and myself think that counts, as they are in our Houses, Dolores.” 

“Well, actually, Minerva,” Umbridge’s eyes seemed to light with manic glee as she read out the newest Education Decree--which gave her the ability to punish students...including stripping them of privileges, titles, and positions. 

Cedric felt his stomach lurch. Harry’s words echoed back at him mockingly, “ _ You have a whole hell of a lot farther to fall than I do.”  _ Then he felt his stomach lurch again, what was Umbridge about to do to Harry?

“So...I really think I will have to ban these three from playing Quidditch ever again,” Umbridge said softly, looking between Harry, George and Cedric. 

“Ban us?” Harry asked softly. “From playing...ever again? Cedric wasn’t--he was trying to stop me! He didn’t mean to hit Malfoy!” 

“Yes, Mr. Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick,” Umbridge said, her smile widening still further as she watched them struggle. “And I think, to be safe, this young man’s twin ought to be stopped too. Mr. Diggory is, of course, immediately stripped of his status as Quidditch Captain, Head Boy, and Prefect. I will want their broomsticks confiscated, I shall keep them safely in my office, to make sure--” 

“Mr. Diggory is one of the most upstanding students in his year!” Professor Sprout cut in, surprising Cedric even as he struggled to catch up with what Professor Umbridge had said. “Outside of today’s events I have never seen him lay a single finger on another person, nor have I seen him draw his wand, except in the defense of fellow students! He is a role model to his House, a leader. Strip him of his broom if you must, but do not presume to intervene with who I choose to lead my House!” 

“I think you’ll find,” Professor Umbridge’s voice grew cold underneath the sickly sweetness. “That Mr. Diggory here, along with Mr. Potter, have been nothing but an immoral and wholly perverted influence on the student population for months. Are you aware that these heathen boys have been cavorting about this castle...being disturbingly  _ intimate?”  _

Something unfamiliar flashed in Professor McGonagall’s expression, then faded. Slowly she stepped forward, facing Umbridge squarely and looking down her spectacles with a gaze of pure contempt, “I think you’ll fine,” she said, her voice steely, “that the intimacy of students’ relationships, provided that it does not interfere with their studies or cause significant public disturbance, has  _ never  _ been a cause for punishment at Hogwarts.” 

“Be that as it may,” Umbridge smiled, “clearly necessary changes to school culture have already been enacted. I won’t have anyone, student  _ or  _ staff, corrupting the youth of this school. To that end Mr. Diggory and Mr. Potter will be serving detention with me at five o’clock, on alternating evenings, for the next...shall we say, three weeks? Well...good afternoon to you all.” 

And, with a look of utmost satisfaction, Umbridge left the room, leaving a horrified silence in her wake. 

“Cedric…” Harry was staring at him, and Cedric could see the unshed tears fighting their way through his stoic stubbornness. 

“I want both of you to listen to me, very carefully,” Professor McGonagall said, her voice tired. “What happened today was inexcusable, I expected better from all three of you. But what has been inflicted upon you as punishment is entirely dispurpotional to the severity of your transgressions. I...it pains me to think Hogwarts is not a place of acceptance. You deserve  _ every  _ right afforded to the students of this school. But please,” she sighed deeply, “be careful. It isn’t fair, it isn’t right. Don’t...don’t hurt yourselves fighting battles you can’t win.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Tree Spiral, the incredible beta for this project!


	9. I Just Want You To Be Happy

**Chapter 9: I Just Want You To Be Happy**

Harry walked back to Gryffindor tower with Cedric and George in silence. There was an ocean of words pushing at his mouth every time he glanced at his soulmate, but each time he opened his mouth they faded. His emotions were more elusive than a panicked Snitch, darting every direction besides the ones he expected. 

_ Cedric...oh Merlin, Cedric, what have I done? You weren’t supposed to get dragged into this, why did you have to be there? You tried to stop me, you tried to protect me. I’m such an asshole.  _

When they finally arrived at Gryffindor tower they both stopped, turning to each other without a word. 

“Uh, right,” George said after a moment. “I’ll just leave you two...to it then.” 

“Harry…” Cedric sighed, leaning against the wall and running his hands anxiously through his hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, before Cedric could finish. His voice was catching on the unshed tears in his chest, frustration and guilt clawing at his heart. “I’m really, really sorry.” 

“This isn’t your fault,” Cedric said softly, looking over at him. “You made a mistake, but so did I. You just...you rush into things without thinking sometimes, Harry. And that terrifies me. Because what if it’s something more dangerous than Malfoy? You have a stupidly low amount of self preservation instinct,” Cedric reached out, holding Harry’s hand loosely in his own, “and I don’t blame you for it, never will. You didn’t grow up understanding how to value your own life. But now there are people in your life who care about you, a lot. You can’t just rush into things making stupid decisions. I...I already worry about you too much.” 

“I--” 

“Don’t apologize, please,” Cedric said more firmly, walking closer and moving his hands to Harry’s shoulder. 

“But you lost--” 

“Harry!” Cedric sighed, “Honestly? I don’t really care right now. I don’t think Umbitch can mess up my apprenticeship interview, that’s all that’s important in the end. There are...bigger things for me to worry about than a badge.” 

“I...okay,” Harry swallowed, looking up and meeting Cedric’s eyes with his own. A smile twitched at his lips, “‘Umbitch’?” 

“It’s fitting,” Cedric muttered darkly. 

Harry chuckled softly, then grimaced. “Cedric...I don’t know how to not do that, but I will try. I...hate that I dragged you into this mess. Nothing you can say is going to stop me from blaming myself. Cedric, I need you to realize something too. Sometimes there will be fights that I rush into that I need to fight alone, if only to minimize who gets hurt. You have a…” a small smile twitched at his lips, “a saving-Harry-thing sometimes. I’m not the only one who needs protecting.” 

Cedric looked at him for a long moment, staring at him intently, then drew him closer, resting their forehead together and closing his eyes, “My stupidly, stupidly brave Gryffindor.” 

Harry smiled, closing his eyes and relaxing into Cedric’s touch, “My heroic Hufflepuff.” 

“For the record,” They both turned abruptly, startled. Hermione was standing in the entranceway to the tower, smiling at them, “You’re both idiots. Come on, I have something that might cheer you both up. Hagrid’s back.” 

Though it was good to see Hagrid, it was concerning to see the battered state he returned in, and frustrating that Hagrid couldn’t tell them much about where he had been. The thought that Cedric would soon have to face a detention with Umbridge didn’t exactly help Harry’s mood as they returned to the castle. 

And in his nightmares, he returned to the graveyard, then a long hallway ending at a single black door…

* * *

“You are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr. Diggory, using a rather special quill of mine. Here you are.” 

Umbridge handed Cedric a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point. At the sight of the instrument of pain that had brutally destroyed the back of Harry’s hand for days on end, Cedric felt his blood go cold. His hands tightened into fists beneath the desk, and he had to fight the urge not to retaliate against the hag. 

“I want you to write  _ ‘I will no longer be a worthless degenerate queer, _ ’” she told him sweetly. 

Cedric stared at her for a moment, and could feel something in him snap. 

“No,” he practically spat the word, placing the quill down on the desk decisively, “I know what  _ that thing  _ does. I’m not carving  _ that  _ into my own flesh.” 

Umbridge smiled sweetly, shrugging, “Very well. I suppose Filch will have to take over your detentions so that Mr. Potter’s discipline can have my  _ undivided  _ attention. I suppose you may leave Mr. Diggory, make sure Mr. Potter gets sent along tonight. I have no doubt he’s...lurking about somewhere near.” 

Closing his eyes, Cedric took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then, stealing himself, he picked up the quill and, with no pretense of politeness, asked, “How many times?” 

Umbridge smirked. “Oh, we will have to see how long it takes for the message to  _ sink in.  _ Off you go.” 

The hand holding the quill began to cramp with the effort of holding it still. Slowly, deliberately he wrote in his own blood:  _ I will no longer be a worthless degenerate queer.  _ Cedric clenched his jaw to keep from crying out with the pain. 

_ I will no longer be a worthless degenerate queer. _

_ I will no longer be a worthless degenerate queer. _

_ I will no longer be a worthless degenerate queer... _

* * *

It had to be close to midnight when Umbridge finally released Cedric from detention. Harry was at his side in a heartbeat, emerging from under the invisibility cloak and guiding his boyfriend off to a more secluded alcove. It did not escape Harry’s notice that Cedric was obviously hiding his hand from Harry’s gaze. 

“Cedric,” He said softly, wrapping a hand gently around Cedric’s wrist, “let me see your hand, please. I don’t...I can’t get the spell right but I have one of the DA First Aid kits. Let me help you.” 

Slowly Cedric nodded, letting Harry hold his hand. The wounds were not yet that deep, they had healed over red and inflamed but not yet bleeding continuously. That did not make the words any less readable. 

Harry wanted very much to march up to that hag’s office and hex her into oblivion. If it would have served any productive purpose, he would have in a heartbeat. 

“You’re not,” Harry said softly, rubbing a generous amount of the pain-numbing salve into Cedric’s hand. “You…” 

“I know,” Cedric said softly. 

Harry, not able to bear the distance between them any longer, pulled his boyfriend close, into a tight embrace. “Come on,” he said finally, tugging at Cedric’s hand. “We’re not going back to the dorms. I’m not leaving you alone tonight.” 

The Room of Requirement turned into a large, yet cosy room decorated in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff colors. To one side was a large fireplace, in which flames danced softly, warming the room. In the center was a large four poster bed. The door locked behind them. 

Harry fell asleep with his arms looped around Cedric in a loose, but protective embrace. And when they both woke up from the darkness of their nightmares, they were there to hold each other. 

* * *

Harry made his way back to Gryffindor tower, feeling more rested than he had in months, just as most people were leaving for breakfast. His feet felt lighter than air, and he almost had to restrain himself from skipping down the halls. When he got to the dormitories the only other person left was Ron, who was clearly waiting for him. 

“So…” Ron said, “Where were you last night?” 

“Oh, er,” Harry smiled as he went about pulling out fresh clothes, “I slept in the Room of Requirement. With Cedric, I didn’t want...he had detention with Umbridge last night. I didn’t want him to be alone after that.” 

Ron blinked in surprise, then grinned, “You slept with Cedric and you look happier than you have in months.” 

“I do?” 

“You practically floated in here mate,” Ron chuckled. “So, how was it?” 

“What?” 

“How was sex?” 

_ WHAT?  _

Harry whirled around, a clean shirt clutched in his hands, staring at Ron for a long moment and looking for any indication he was joking. For a few moments he opened and closed his jaw uselessly, words failing to catch up with the speeding trains of thought crashing around in his head. Ron seemed to seriously think Cedric and Harry had sex. 

And that was a lot to unpack. 

“ _ What _ ?” He spluttered weakly. 

Ron frowned, “Sex? Like...y’know...sex. I mean we’re mates, right? We’d talk about it if you were dating a girl.” 

“We’re not…” Harry trailed off, “I mean, I’m not--we’ve never--what made you think Cedric and I had  _ sex _ , Ron?” 

“Well, it’s not like you haven’t slept together before,” Ron said, shrugging, “sort of figured Headquarters wasn’t quite the right place for it with everyone around. But you snuck off with Cedric, your boyfriend, to a completely secret room last night. Why wouldn’t you?” 

Harry looked away, staring off into the distance blankly for a few moments. “I’ve never really thought about it, and we’ve never...talked about it.” 

“Oh,” Ron shrugged. 

_ Sex. Sex with Cedric. What would that even be like?  _ Harry felt heat rising in his cheeks and neck and immediately buried his face in his hands. It wasn’t exactly  _ unappealing _ , it was just a bit...weird. Foreign? Strange? Whatever it was, he was sure he wasn’t ready for it yet. 

It just didn’t make much sense. Who would he even ask for advice about it? The awkward hour long talk they had with Madam Pomfrey at the end of Third Year didn’t exactly help much. Would Sirius and Remus give him advice? How would he even start that conversation? Harry scowled, remembering he couldn’t even risk letters to them right now. 

What did Cedric think about all this? Harry wasn’t sure what he wanted but...what did Cedric want? The age difference between them hadn’t ever  _ really  _ seemed to matter--until now. Harry was fifteen and Cedric was already eighteen. Harry hadn’t ever even really thought about sex...had Cedric...had sex? 

“You alright, mate?” Ron asked quietly, looking at him with concern. 

“Do you think Cedric wants to have sex?” Harry asked abruptly, turning to look at him. 

Ron blinked in surprise, “Er, I dunno mate. Has he ever brought it up?” 

Harry shook his head, “He hasn’t.” 

“Well, Cedric’s a good bloke, you have a healthy relationship, I’m sure he’ll bring it up if he thinks it’s important,” Ron stood to leave, waving Harry along, “c’mon. Let’s get to breakfast.” 

Harry, despite Ron’s word, remained unconvinced. His appetite disappeared, leaving him to listlessly push around a pile of scrambled eggs on his plate. At Hermione’s insistence he managed to nibble on some toast. When Cedric caught his eyes from across the hall he had to force a smile, and felt immediately embarrassed at the warmth flushing to his face. 

What if Cedric was just trying to be nice by not bringing it up? Cedric was older, and he was handsome, and he’d dated other people besides Harry. But Harry was younger, maybe Cedric was just trying to avoid pressuring him into anything and hurting him. Cedric was so kind, it would be like him to do that. Would Cedric be happier with someone closer to his own age who he could have sex with? 

Was Harry holding him back from enjoying life? They were living in a chaotic world of uncertainty; despite the efforts of the adults to protect them, there was honestly no guarantee either of them would survive. 

_ If Cedric wants to have sex, then shouldn’t he have sex?  _

But Harry was certain he wasn’t ready, even with Cedric. Nor did he want to rush into it just because he might die. However, he did want to make Cedric happy, especially with everything going on. 

_ I should offer it to Cedric,  _ he thought, abruptly stabbing a piece of fruit with his fork.  _ He won’t make the first move if he’s trying to avoid pressuring me. But I should make him happy. Will this make him happy? Will this make me happy? _

* * *

Harry was let out of Umbridge’s an hour before midnight. Cedric, having just left detention with Filch, met up with him outside Umbridge’s office. The wound on Harry’s hand was deep. Even after Cedric cleaned and treated the wound with one of the D. A. First Aid kits, it still bled enough to stain the white bandage crimson. 

“Cedric,” Harry said after several minutes of silence as they walked, turning to him. “Let’s have sex.” 

_ What?  _

Cedric stopped abruptly in his tracks, staring at his boyfriend. The thought had occurred to him before, of course, but he never expected Harry to randomly just say that with no warning. Of course the idea was appealing, Harry was  _ beautiful _ , but Cedric had resolved to contain such things to his fantasies for the time being. Harry was also more than two years younger than him, and Cedric never wanted to do anything to pressure Harry. 

So for this to randomly come up, Cedric had to worry about what had sparked it. 

“Cedric?” Harry asked tentatively. 

Belatedly, Cedric realized he’d been staring in silence for an awkward amount of time, “Uh, yeah, Harry…” 

_ What in the world am I supposed to say to that?! _

“Do you...want to have sex with me?” Harry grimaced, clearly nervous and uncomfortable with the idea. There was insecurity there too--Harry’s self doubt. 

_ Merlin, of course I want to! But that’s not the point! _

“Harry, I think we need to talk, okay?” Cedric said finally, his voice a bit strained. “Let’s go to the Room of Requirement--just to talk.” 

“Okay,” Harry said, his voice quiet. 

The Room of Requirement opened into the same room with the fireplace hung with Hufflepuff and Gryffindor colors. It was unchanged except for the four poster bed, which had been replaced by a cozy loveseat. Cedric and Harry sat comfortably next to each other, but for several long moments an uncertain silence hung between them. 

“Harry,” Cedric sighed deeply, “What brought this on?” 

“Uh…” Harry trailed off. “I was talking with Ron, actually. I mean, we have the Room of Requirement. There’s nothing stopping us. I figured that you...wanted it? It’s what people...do I suppose.” 

“Is it what  _ you  _ want, Harry?” Cedric asked gently. 

Harry groaned, burying his head in his hands. 

“No,” he whispered. 

_ Oh, Harry.  _ Concern tightened in Cedric’s chest, regret that Harry had ever felt he had to offer something he was uncomfortable with.  _ I would wait ten thousand lifetimes for you, and then ten thousand more.  _

“Then why did you offer it?” Cedric rested a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, “Harry, what I want is for you to be happy, to be safe.” 

“But I want you to be happy too, Cedric,” Harry said earnestly, turning to meet his gaze, “and if...sex is what you want, then I want to give that to you.” 

“No, you don’t, not really,” Cedric said gently, pulling him into a soft hug, “And you already make me happy, Harry. More than you will ever know. A lack of sex would never make our relationship less fulfilling to me. We never have to do anything that you don’t want to do.” 

Harry sighed in relief, leaning into the embrace, “Thank you.” 

“Of course, Harry,” Cedric pressed a tender kiss to Harry’s forehead, “You know you never have to  _ do  _ anything to earn my love, right? I love you regardless, to the end of the world.” 

Harry turned, drawing him into a deep kiss. “I love you too.” 

* * *

_ Dear Cedric,  _

_ An owl from the school came yesterday. What happened? That horrible Ministry woman said you drew your wand on a fellow student, surely there’s more to the story than that? How did she justify stripping you of everything you’ve worked for? Are you okay? Is Harry okay? Write soon. _

_ Love,  _

_ Mom  _

* * *

_ Dear Mom and Dad,  _

Cedric leaned back in his chair with a sigh, unsure of what to say. What was there to say? Everything he had worked for  _ was  _ gone. A familiar pang of anxiety tightened in his chest...what was his father really thinking? Was he horribly disappointed? Surely he wouldn’t...surely he wouldn’t go back to disapproving of Harry? 

_ We’re okay.  _

Were they really? Both of them had words carved into their flesh--since when did that enter their definition of okay? 

_ Umbridge has had it out for us since the beginning; she doesn’t like me and Harry. It’s more than us speaking out against the Ministry, she hates the idea of two wizards being together. It was only a matter of time before she found an excuse to go after me too.  _

_ Harry and George got into a fight on the Quidditch pitch. Malfoy was insulting their families. I wanted to join them, to be honest, but I was really trying to stop Harry from doing something stupid. I didn’t mean to hit Malfoy. Professor Sprout tried to get Umbridge to reconsider, but she wouldn’t budge.  _

_ I still have the Healer Apprenticeship interview at least. Umbridge couldn’t ruin that too.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Cedric _

* * *

_ Dear Cedric,  _

_ We are so proud of you son, nothing that hag could ever do would change that. Amos and Snuffles are furious, but not with you or Harry. I want you both to know we support you all unconditionally. There are bigger problems in the world for people to worry about than wizards who love wizards.  _

_ It was good of you to try and stop Harry. It is far harder to draw our wands against the people we love than the people we hate, but sometimes it is necessary. Even if it didn’t turn out right. Harry is lucky to have you beside him Cedric, he needs you.  _

_ Keep your heads down and get through this. Focus on studying for the interview and your exams. Over Christmas I’ll help you review for the interview like we talked about. You and Harry are strong, we believe in you.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Mom _

* * *

December arrived, bringing with it more snow, deep wounds etched into Cedric and Harry’s hands, and a positive avalanche of homework for all of them. As Christmas approached Ron and Hermione’s prefect duties also became more involved, requiring that they assisted with decorations. A Seventh Year Slytherin was appointed to Head Boy, making their lives even more arduous. 

Cedric and Harry ended up in the library or the Room of Requirement a lot together, curled up in book alcoves secluded enough to minimize the risk of Umbridge finding them. In public they did not dare do much more than talk, even simple hugs or hand holding risked landing either--or both--of them back in detention. 

They did a lot of homework, Cedric helping Harry raise his potions grades tremendously, and studied for their exams. Cedric was also working on finishing the last part of his application for the Healer apprenticeship interview. Luckily he had already completed the teacher recommendation section before Umbridge put him on her personal hate list. Harry and Hermione helped him proofread the package over and over, until finally they both proclaimed they would be insane not to call him in for an interview. Cedric handed it in to Professor Sprout the next day. 

After homework they planned and practiced for the DA meetings, sometimes facing off against each other in mock duels. Cedric was frustrated, still struggling to produce a corporeal patronus the way Harry could, and stressed about his N.E.W.T.s. Harry reminded him, with plenty of kisses--safe from prying eyes as they were with the Room of Requirement--to not be so hard on himself. 

For the first time in Harry’s school career, he was very much looking forward to spending the holidays away from Hogwarts. With Umbridge ruling over the school, no staff able to truly stand in her way, it wasn’t really the same place. Mrs. Weasley had written to them to inform them, in code, that they would all be gathering at Grimmauld for Christmas. Harry managed to ignore the pang of guilt in his chest when he thought about why Cedric’s family couldn’t be at their home for Christmas, focusing on the positives--at least they would all be together. 

Harry even already had a Christmas gift for Cedric made; with the help of Colin Creevey, Hermione, and Dobby, he had put together a photo album. The majority of it was filled with pictures of Harry and Cedric, but it included lots of moments from the fall and winter that involved all of Cedric’s friends, and there was still some room for the future. 

* * *

Harry, with Cedric, arrived early in the Room of Requirement for the last D. A. meeting before the holidays and was very glad they had, because when the torches burst into light he saw that Dobby had taken upon himself to decorate the place for Christmas. It was quite certainly the elf who had decorated, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry’s face and the words HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS. 

Cedric burst with fits of laughter, unable to keep a straight face every time he looked at Harry’s exasperated face. Mercifully, he helped Harry take them down, but not without grabbing a few, in his words, “for safekeeping.” Harry sighed but didn’t argue, knowing there wasn’t any real point. 

Soon the room was full and Harry was speaking to the assembled crowd, “Okay, I thought this evening we should just go over the things we’ve done so far, because it’s the last meeting before the holidays and there’s no point starting anything new right before a three week break--” 

“We’re not doing anything new?” Smith said, in a disgruntled whisper. “If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have come…” 

“We’re all really sorry Harry didn’t tell you then,” Fred said loudly. 

“As always,” Cedric said as the crowd sniggered, “door’s right there.” 

“We can practice in pairs,” Harry said. “We’ll start with the Impediment Jinx, just for ten minutes, then we can get the cushions and try Stunning again. At the end I want Cedric to run a review of the first aid kits.” 

“Uh, Harry?” 

Harry turned around to see who had spoken--it was Cedric’s friend Gavin, and he was not alone. Standing next to him was a young witch in Ravenclaw robes Harry didn’t recognize who looked remarkably like Gavin, definitely a sibling. Same dark hair, same golden skin, same nose; scrawny, short, but standing with an air of confidence--she was practically the Hufflepuff’s mirror image. 

“This is Kayla,” Gavin explained, looking a bit uncomfortable, “my sister. I know it’s the last meeting of the year, but she wants to join…” 

Kayla flashed a grin, “And Cedric finally convinced my overprotective brother I deserve to come break some rules too.” 

James, overhearing their conversation, called out from where he was waiting on Gavin, laughing, “We don’t call him Badger Brother for nothing.” At the nickname Gavin shrugged, clearly used to hearing it. 

Harry blinked in surprise; he hadn’t realized Gavin had a younger sister, but then again, he hadn’t really had many conversations with Cedric’s friends. Belatedly he realized Cedric was a lot closer to his friends than he was to Cedric’s, and it might be a good idea to get to know them better before they left Hogwarts. 

“Oh, well, welcome.” He smiled, “Let’s get you on the list and then I’ll run through some spells with you.” 

Kayla beamed at him. Noticing Gavin still looked a bit nervous, Harry pulled him aside before they got to work. 

“Look, Gavin,” Harry said firmly, “I think you did the right thing letting her come.” 

Gavin grimaced, “You’re probably right but…” 

“But?” 

“I’m just…” Gavin trailed off. “I’m so used to protecting her. It’s just us, y’know? Mum can’t...Mum can’t really protect us in this world, she’s a Muggle. Kayla...I wish I could wrap her in bubble wrap sometimes.” 

Harry nodded, “But it’s not just you, Gavin. You’re Cedric’s friend, he would fight to the end of the line to protect you both. And, honestly, any friend of Cedric’s is a friend of mine. We’ll help you look out for her, mate. I’ve been realizing more and more lately I can’t take everything on myself, you might think about that yourself.” 

“Thank you,” Gavin said sincerely. 

“And Kayla deserves to be here,” Harry added. “This is her fight too.” 

“I know,” Gavin said grimly, walking off to pair with James. 

Kayla, though inexperienced, was feisty, if a bit impatient with herself. She threw herself into the lesson enthusiastically, picking up on new material quickly. She was a powerful young witch. Harry was genuinely impressed, and made sure to tell Gavin and her as much. 

The meeting went well, everyone having improved significantly. At the end of it Harry was completely honest in his praise, excited to teach them what he had planned for the spring. Gavin and James left with Kayla--despite her protests--insisting on walking her back to Ravenclaw tower. The room cleared slowly, people wishing him a Happy Christmas as they went, and eventually leaving only Cedric and Harry. 

“I,” Cedric said, reaching gently and cupping Harry’s cheek in in his hand, “love,” his other hand found Harry’s, their fingers interlacing tightly, “you,” the kiss he pressed to Harry’s forehead sent a wave of warmth down his nerves, every muscle in his body trembling under his touch. 

Harry’s arms wrapped around Cedric’s neck, one of his hands tangling in his chestnut hair, and he pulled him close. At first the kiss was soft, their lips pressing together softly, and then it deepened. Harry lost part of himself as the barriers between them--the barriers of space, time, circumstance, and inhibition--all crumbled to dust. 

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Harry gazed lovingly into Cedric’s eyes, his arms still wrapped around the older boy’s neck. Suddenly, though the source was unseen, music began to sing through the air. Piano notes--soft, but filled with life. An unfamiliar song that called them to dance. 

So dance they did, swaying softly to the rhythm of the music. 

Outside, the threat of Umbridge waited. Beyond that, the threat of Voldemort lurked. But for the moment, a feeling of happiness overwhelmed them, surrounding them like a shield. The light of it, the blinding light of love, guarded them from all the darkness. 

* * *

Harry dreamed he was back in the D.A. room. Cedric was there and Harry rushed to embrace him, to kiss him...the moment he touched Cedric’s skin, Cedric’s screams filled the air. Harry had burned him, burned him like he burned professor Quirrel...Cedric was turning to dust...floating away...he was gone. Harry cried out in anguish.  _ “Tut, tut,”  _ Professor Umbridge’s sickly sweet voice echoed behind him, “pity, but it’s for the best. One less worthless queer for the school. Now we just have to get rid of you.” 

The darkness enveloped him. The dream changed…

Harry was back in the graveyard. He screamed for Cedric to run but he wasn’t fast enough. He died screaming, the red glint of Voldemort’s eyes burned into his vision. 

The darkness enveloped him. The dream changed…

His body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone...He was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly...It was dark, yet he could see objects around him shimmering in strange, vibrant colors...a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping onto his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark…

Harry tasted the man’s scent on the air...he was alive but drowsing...Harry longed to bite the man...He reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging his fangs deeply into the man’s flesh...Blood was splattered onto the floor…

His forehead was splintering with pain...It was aching fit to burst…

“Harry! HARRY!” 

He opened his eyes to see Ron standing over him, looking extremely frightened. 

“Your dad,” Harry panted, the realization catching up with him. “Your dad’s been attacked.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonderful kudos and credit for the title of this chapter goes to Tree Spiral, the incredible beta for this project!


	10. A Time For Joy

**Chapter 10: A Time For Joy**

Cedric woke up with a groan, surprised he had made it through the night soundly. Yawning, he rolled over to look at his alarm clock, and smiled. He still had some time to sleep in. 

“Cedric!” Gavin burst in, abruptly walking over and shaking him, “Cedric, come on, wake up. Professor Sprout’s in the common room. Apparently you have to go? Something about joining Harry tomorrow.” 

That had Cedric awake in an instant, rushing to get on his robes. He practically flew down the hallway to the common room, and he was sure the look he was giving a tired Professor Sprout was near manic. 

“What happened?” he demanded, “Where’s Harry? Is he safe? Is he alright? Where--” 

“Mr. Diggory, calm yourself,” she said softly. “Mr. Potter is perfectly safe with the old crowd. You will be joining him tomorrow evening, have your things packed so they can be flooed after you.” 

“What happened?” 

She grimaced, “I’m afraid I can’t give you details right now, Mr. Diggory. You will find out soon enough. I assure you, however, Mr. Potter is well and safe.” 

_ Safe?  _ Cedric thought bitterly as he made the way back to his dorm,  _ Since when are any of us, especially Harry, safe? _

* * *

Everyone but Harry spent the rest of the morning sleeping. He went to the bedroom he had shared with Cedric and the twins over the summer, but while the twins were asleep in minutes Harry hunched fully clothed on the bed he had shared with Cedric, keeping himself deliberately uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure he could have slept if he tried, but the thought of falling asleep and becoming that serpent again...of waking to find he had attacked someone he loved...he couldn’t bear it. 

After breakfast he took Sirius aside and talked to him, desperately needing to unload the anxiety knotted up into his chest. They walked into the dark pantry and Sirius followed. Without preamble Harry told his godfather every detail of the vision he had had, including the fact that he himself had been the snake who had attacked Mr. Weasley. 

As he recounted the details of the dream it grew steadily harder to draw in enough air. Every muscle in his body was tense and shaking; the tremors in his hands could not be stopped even by squeezing his fingers into fists. Panic was tightening into a knot in his chest, constricting his thoughts, sending his heart racing into a frantic tempo. When he reached the part about being the snake in the vision, it  _ snapped _ . 

“Harry…” Sirius trailed off, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

“What if I--” Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, “Sirius, I...I think I’m going mad...Back in Dumbledore’s office, just before we took the Portkey...for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I  _ felt  _ like one--my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore--Sirius...I wanted to attack him...What if after everything, I’ve cracked? What if I’ve...gone bad?” 

“You haven’t,” Sirius said softly, looking at him sadly. 

“What if I’m a danger to all of you?” Harry’s voice broke. 

“Oh, Harry,” Sirius gently pulled him into a hug. “I want you to listen to me very carefully. You’re not a bad person. You’re a very good person, who bad things have happened to. Besides, this world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters; we all have both light and darkness within.” 

“It was like something rose up inside me...like there was--is--a snake inside me.” 

Sirius pulled away to look him in the eye, “Harry, I know you. You fight so hard to protect the people you care about. You’ll never be like them Harry, they don’t understand the kind of feeling. No true Death Eater,” Sirius gently tapped the red cloth covering Harry’s wrist, “has ever had a soulmark. You’re really much more like Lily than James, I think. You have such an incredible capacity for love.” 

“I don’t…” 

“But now, you need to sleep,” Sirius said firmly. “You’re going to have breakfast and then go upstairs to bed, and then you can go and see Arthur after lunch with the others. You’re in shock Harry; you’re blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it’s lucky you  _ did  _ witness it or Arthur might have died. Try, as best you can, not to worry.” 

* * *

Harry remained unconvinced. The trip to St. Mungo’s passed by him in a numb blur of color and sound. All of Mr. Weasley’s cheerfulness couldn’t change the state of his injuries, and Harry felt a sinking feeling of guilt every time he met the older wizard’s eyes. 

They didn’t want to tell him about Mr. Weasley’s mission at the Ministry, but Fred and George had Extendable Ears and they were able to eavesdrop. Harry almost wished they hadn’t. 

“Yeah, well,” Moody’s voice was gruff, “there’s something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that. He’s had a hard time of it, sure, but something more…” 

“Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,” Mrs. Weasley whispered. 

“ ‘Course he’s worried,” Moody growled. “The boy’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake...Obviously, Potter doesn’t realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who’s possessing him…” 

Harry felt certain he was going to be sick. 

* * *

Was this why Dumbledore would no longer meet Harry’s eyes? Did he expect to see Voldemort staring back at him--was he afraid, perhaps, that one day vivid green might turn bloody scarlet? He felt dirty, contaminated, as though he were carrying some deadly germ...he had not merely seen the snake, he had  _ been  _ the snake…

_ “Something he didn’t have last time...like a weapon…”  _

Harry’s blood went cold.  _ I’m the weapon.  _

_ “You fight so hard to protect the people you care about.”  _

_ I can’t protect them from myself,  _ Harry thought bitterly.  _ I’m not strong enough. I’m the one Voldemort’s trying to use, that’s why they’ve got guards around me everywhere I go, it’s not for my protection, it’s for other people, only it’s not working...Voldemort’s possessing me. Oh, Merlin, everyone here--and soon Cedric will be here too! I’m a danger to them.  _

A terrible stab of panic tore through his heart.  _ This is insane! If Voldemort’s possessing me, I’m giving him a clear view into the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. I shouldn’t be here.  _

There was only one thing for it: He would have to leave Grimmauld Place straightaway. He couldn’t go back to Hogwarts either--there were too many people there he cared about that Voldemort could use him to hurt. A leadan sensation was settling in the pit of his stomach; there was nowhere else to go. He would have to go back to Privet Drive. 

_ Could  _ he even go back to Privet Drive? Vernon would...Vernon would beat him, perhaps to death... _ would that be so bad? At least then, Voldemort couldn’t use me to hurt them...at least then, maybe Cedric would be safe… _

But no, Privet Drive wouldn’t work. Harry couldn’t call that place a home, and it would be too easy for the Order to find him there. He would have to disappear, slip into the cracks of Muggle society. 

A ragged sob tore it’s way out of Harry’s chest; he would have to leave Cedric for as long as Voldemort lived. 

Well, if he had to do it, he thought, there was no point hanging around. After scrawling a note he strode over to his trunk mechanically, slammed the lid shut and locked it, seized one end of it and dragged it halfway toward the door when a voice behind him said, “Harry, where are you going?” 

He looked around. Remus had appeared in the hallway, his face gaunt with the effect of the steadily waxing moon, and was leaning against the wall, watching Harry with a sad expression on his face. 

“I...I can’t stay, Remus.” 

“Running away won’t change anything, Harry.” 

“I’m... _ dangerous _ !” Harry cried, waving his arms in frustration. “Voldemort’s...in my head! What if I hurt one of you? What if I…” 

“Running away won’t change anything,” Remus repeated softly. “Trust me, I know.” 

“How could you understand?” Harry leaned against the wall tiredly, running his hands through his hair, fighting back tears. “No one understands. I can’t be responsible for letting him hurt one of you.” 

“I might not be able to understand what it’s like to be possessed by a dark wizard,” Remus sighed, “but I have a bit of experience being afraid I might hurt someone, Harry. There is darkness in both of us we cannot control, it makes us dangerous. But shutting yourself off from the people who love you won’t help.” 

Harry stared at him, at a loss for words, “It doesn’t change the fact that I have to leave.” 

“Running away,” Remus repeated again, more forcefully, “won’t help anything. You’re afraid he’ll use you to attack, would it really be better if he attacked a group of defenceless Muggles? And do you really think myself, or Sirius, or Cedric, or anyone here, will stop looking for you? Would you rather have us here, relatively safe, or out there, searching?” 

“I…” 

“I almost ran away when I was thirteen,” Remus looked away, distantly staring at some far off point. “Alone, I couldn’t handle the transformation as well. I almost bit someone, a little girl. Your dad stopped me and dragged me back home. My parents were worried sick. Harry...don’t do this.” 

“I’m…” Harry’s voice broke, tears finally fighting their way down his face. Something in him deflated; he felt utterly defeated. “I’m afraid, Remus.” 

Remus walked across the hall, pulling him into a soft hug, “I know, Harry. I’m scared too.” 

* * *

Cedric knocked hesitantly at the door, feeling utterly inadequate to handle the situation. Sirius and Remus had pulled him aside earlier to talk through what had happened and how Harry was taking it. They were clearly worried, and Remus said since Harry had almost ran away he refused to really talk to them. They were hoping that Cedric could help, and Cedric was hoping they were right, because he had no idea what to do. 

Harry needed them, he needed Cedric, to get him through this. 

“I’m fine Hermione,” Harry growled, “leave me alone.” 

_ Not going to happen, Harry.  _

“It’s me,” Cedric said softly, opening and closing the door behind him, “And you are, most decidedly, not fine. Have you even slept since you left Hogwarts?” 

Harry stared at him blankly for a moment. “Tried not to,” he muttered. 

“Well,” Cedric said softly, sitting down on the bed and placing an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. “We’re going to talk, and then we’re going to take a nap, because we’re both exhausted. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Harry sighed tiredly. “I just...Cedric...I can’t bear the thought of you looking at me like they are...I cannot lose you I won’t…I won’t survive that...please don’t leave me...” 

“Sirius and Remus told me about the vision and snake,” Cedric said softly, rubbing a small circle into Harry’s back, “and I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

* * *

Somehow, Harry found his mood turned back around. Cedric and Harry spent hours upon hours together--baking cookies with Mrs. Weasley, cleaning, decorating, laughing, just...existing and living with everyone--and Harry’s heart felt lighter than it had in months. 

“Padfoot…” Remus trailed off, smiling as he watched Sirius struggle with the christmas tree, which was just slightly too tall for the ceiling of the parlour. “It’s still crooked.” 

Sirius sighed in exasperation, resting for a moment with his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, this is impossible!” 

Shaking his head, Remus drew his wand. Moments later the tree was slightly shorter and standing straight up. Looking satisfied with himself, Remus elbowed Sirius playfully, “Are you a wizard or not?” 

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Course I’m a wizard Moony. Help me with this box.” 

Harry could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols. The company over for Christmas, especially when Sirius rarely saw anyone outside Order meetings--save the few odd visits Remus managed--delighted him. 

The looks that passed between Remus and Sirius did not go unnoticed by many. Harry caught Mrs. Weasley gazed sadly at them one day, and without words he knew that she, like him, wished the two would let themselves be truly happy again. 

Remus and Sirius would fall into a casual sort of intimacy sometimes--smiling, laughing, touching each other like life was good and they were carefree--and then abruptly they would pull apart. It was like watching two magnets slide towards each other from across a distance, drawn together by a force that neither of them could ever truly escape, only to see someone abruptly stop them before they collided. Over and over again this happened, like a maddening, tragic, dance. 

Harry had to stop himself from shouting at them to just kiss already on several occasions. 

Sometimes, being around everyone was too much; Cedric caught him distancing himself from the others several times. He would sit alone in the cold and empty drawing room, watching the sky outside the windows grow whiter, threatening snow, sure that he was giving them the opportunity to keep talking about him behind his back, as they were bound to be doing. No matter Harry’s protests, after sitting with him for a quiet moment, Cedric would draw him back to them. 

And, though Harry was often loathe to admit it, he was glad Cedric was there to keep him from falling back into his own doubts and fears. It was really, somewhat strangely, the best holidays Harry had ever had. Left alone, he might have ruined that for himself, cut himself off from everything that was making him happy. 

The darkness still lingered at the edges of his thoughts, stayed with him like a heavy rock in his heart, but with the people he loved surrounding him...it was manageable. 

* * *

Everyone, and the house was quite full at the moment, gathered in the parlour to open presents on Christmas morning. Cedric got his very first Weasley Christmas sweater--yellow, with a black C emblazoned across the front and red and gold around the cuffs--and he almost cried. And when he opened Harry’s photo album, Harry was sure he had never seen him smile so broadly. 

Hermione got both Ron and Harry homework planners, a gift Cedric, Remus, and Mrs. Weasley heartily approved of. Sirius and Remus gave him a set of Defense books, which he looked forward to potentially using for DA lessons. Cedric’s parents gave him a box of sweets, Mrs. Weasley the usual jumper--his had black and yellow around the cuffs--Tonks a miniature firebolt, and Dobby a painting Harry was rather sure he had made himself. 

“Harry,” Sirius said solemnly. His godfather was seated across from him and Cedric, an expression on his face more well,  _ serious,  _ than he had been for days. Amos Diggory sat down beside him, looking intently at Cedric and Harry. The rest of the adults had hushed, obviously recognizing some significance Harry did not. Beside him Cedric tensed, almost imperceptibly. 

“Sirius?” 

Sirius took a deep breath and withdrew a small, plain, black box from his robes and handed it to Cedric, “May the bond between you run deep and strong.” 

“May your love shine until all stars fall from the heavens,” Amos Diggory said, taking out a similar box and handing it to Harry. 

At a loss for words, Harry took the box as Cedric did. Opening it he found a silver pendant that fit comfortably within his palm. It was a celtic knot, a triquetra interwoven with a circle--nearly identical to Harry and Cedric’s soulmarks. Nestled within the pendant, where Cedric's initials were on Harry’s mark, suspended by magic, was a teardrop shaped gem the size of the tip of Harry’s pinky finger. The gem was the exact same grey-blue of Cedric’ eyes. 

The moment the pendent touched his hand, Harry could feel the magic thrumming lightly, warmly within it. It felt...not unlike Cedric. He turned to his boyfriend for an explanation, noticing distantly that the gem in Cedric’s pendant was a bright emerald green. 

“Sirius…” Cedric trailed off, “Sirius is your godfather. He’s…” 

“Stepping into the role of your father for a moment,” Sirius said softly. “Harry, soulmate bonds are incredibly ancient and sacred pieces of magic. These pendants are a traditional gift from family to show acceptance of relationships and to accept both into the protection of the separate families. These are from myself, Remus, Amos, and Thea. Essentially Remus and I are informally adopting Cedric and Amos and Thea are informally adopting you, Harry. Normally soulpendants are betrothal gifts,” several people chuckled as Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, “but they don’t have to be.” 

Harry stared at his godfather for a moment, and then Amos and Thea, lost in emotions he did not understand. Cedric and the others clearly understood this better than he did, and he wondered again if it wasn’t a bad idea to read a few more of the books Hermione suggested. 

“The pendants are more than a bit of jewelry, however,” Amos added, looking at them both intently, “and you should both wear them at all times. They are attuned to the magic of your soulbond; the charm means only one of you can put them on or take them off. If either of you finds yourself in trouble, speak the incantation ‘aperta vocem meam,’ and then think of your message to the other. The other pendent should heat up and relay the message. And…” his eyes grew sad for a moment, “if either of you dies, the respective stone will fall. It is an assurance to both of you of the other’s safety, and a way to call for help. Considering the current state of the world, it seemed a prudent gift.” 

Cedric wrapped an arm around Harry, hugging him tightly for a moment. Neither of them spoke, there weren’t exactly words for the gratitude they felt. Harry smiled as Cedric lifted his pendent from Harry’s hands, slipping the chain around Harry’s head, and he did the same for his boyfriend. The pendant settled comfortably against his sternum, pulsating against his chest with a gentle, familiar magic...almost like a second heartbeat. 

Finally all that remained was Cedric’s present. Cedric handed him a large envelope, surprising Harry. What had Cedric gotten him, a small stack of parchment? Opening it hesitantly he found what appeared to be a small booklet, the paper contained within a hard cover decorated with moving decorations--intricate patterns that swirled with colors. Emblazoned across the front were these words: 

_ A Melody Within Cacophony; A Light Within The Darkness _

_ By Cedric Diggory _

_ Written With Everlasting Love For Harry James Potter _

Harry opened the booklet, finding within pages of sheet music. Slowly he turned, staring at his boyfriend in awe, love, and shock. Cedric blushed and then, grinning, walked over to the piano. Even as the gathered people turned to watch and listen, it seemed Cedric had eyes only for him. 

Music unlike anything Harry had ever heard filled the air. Each note seemed deliberate yet entirely natural, propelled forward by emotions no language could quite name. He felt love in the vibrations that danced in the air, felt it ring into his soul and fill some hole he hadn’t realized existed. 

Afterwards Cedric gave him a small silver box, no larger than a galleon on each side, held closed with a small latch. When opened, it revealed a ball of silvery light and played a recording of the song Cedric had written. 

Harry smiled broadly and laughed deeply throughout the day, surrounded by people who loved him and he loved in return. Christmas was, in spite of everything, a time for joy. 

End Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, as always, a huge kudos to Tree Spiral, the amazing beta for this project!  
> This is the end of what I like to think of as Part I of this story. I'm going to be taking a short break (shouldn't be more than a week) from posting while I finish writing Part II. I've been dealing with some personal stuff and I wasn't able to write as much the past week as I expected. I appreciate your patience. Thank you to everyone who takes time to comment, you really make my day and fuel my creative muse :)  
> I do fully intend to carry this series through to the end, so I hope you all stick with me for the ride!  
> Also, I just want to say in light of recent events, I stand firmly with the trans community. I hate that JK Rowling's words may have damaged the wonderful world of Harry Potter for you. In my opinion this wonderful story (in which I am having so much fun writing my own story) is really somewhat out of her hands now. What exists between a reader and a story is a sacred thing that honestly not even the author of the story can touch. I love you all!


	11. Life Goes On

Part II

**Chapter 11: Life Goes On**

Later on Christmas morning they paid another visit to St. Mungo’s, Cedric accompanying them this time. There was little traffic on the roads, letting them travel quickly, and when they arrived the hospital was decorated pleasantly festive. Harry was quite glad of Cedric’s presence later, his soulmate seemed to sense how badly seeing Neville’s had shaken him. 

As Christmas ended so did the cheerfulness that had accompanied his godfather; Sirius was more withdrawn and grumpy, often disappearing for hours on end to Buckbeak’s company. Harry was not looking forward to leaving him alone, in fact for the first time, he wasn’t really looking forward to returning to Hogwarts. There wasn’t much to look forward to, except the D.A--Sirius wasn’t the only moody one. Cedric, after discussing this at length with Harry, seemingly made it his personal mission to cheer the man up. 

In Cedric’s words, there wasn’t much wasting the time they did have together moping about being separated. Hufflepuff logic, when it came to people and happiness, was pretty rock solid. Sirius and Harry’s moods improved steadily, Cedric helping them both get their minds off things. The things were still  _ there to worry about _ , of course, and Harry still had nightmares, but it was somewhat better. 

* * *

Cedric was sitting in the parlour of Grimmauld Place, a book on healing spells resting on his knee and Harry, asleep, using half of his lap as a pillow. It was the kind of domestic moments they found at Grimmauld that Cedric cherished; the kind of moments that left a quiet kind of happiness. This happiness was precious, fragile, almost like glass…

_ I wonder, when will it shatter?  _

“Cedric?” 

Cedric looked up from the book to see his mother. He took the tea she had offered gratefully, sighing as he wrapped his hands around the warm mug. “Thanks,” he said softly, taking a long sip. 

Thea sat in the armchair next to them, “How are you doing  _ mo leanbh _ ?” 

Cedric felt a warmth spread in his chest as his mother’s term of endearment. Everytime she spoke in her native tongue he felt an echo of the first time she had taken him to visit his grandparents in Scotland. He was only seven then. Grandpapa had told him folktales of old heroes and Grandmama had him help her in the kitchen. There was a feeling of untouchable safety in their cabin, nestled as it was in the highlands. 

“ ‘m alright,” Cedric muttered softly, stroking a finger gently through Harry’s hair. 

His mother smiled sadly at him, “Neither of you really are alright, Cedric. That’s okay, y’know? I don’t think anyone in this house is really ‘alright’ anymore. You and Harry have had a rough time of it.” 

Cedric sighed deeply, closing the book, “Yeah. Mom...I’m tired.” 

“You put so much pressure on yourself,” she said softly, reaching over and rubbing his hand with hers gently, “Relax. I’m proud. Amos, though he never knows when to shut up about it, is proud of you. Regardless of what you achieve. You're our son, and we love you.” She nodded her head towards Harry and added, “And we love him, too. Relax a bit.” 

“I just…” Cedric grimaced, looking between Harry and the book he had been studying. “I don’t want to mess this up. Any of this.” 

“Frankly, the St.Mungo’s Apprenticeship program would be stupid not to accept you,” she grinned. “I’m so proud of you for wanting to become a Healer, Cedric.” 

“I’m walking in your footsteps,” Cedric said, smiling. “I want to become a Combat Healer like you after I sit my general Healer exams.” 

She shook her head. “No, Cedric. You’re not walking in my footsteps. You’re a talented dueler--you take after me there, a powerful wizard, and you might be on a similar path, but the path you walk is your own. And you’re not walking it alone.” 

“I know,” Cedric said softly, shifting Harry slightly. 

“I think the First War was...easier on us somehow,” she said, her voice strangely distant. “At least, for Amos and me. Once you were born it got harder. But now, with you and Harry inevitably drawn toward the conflict...it terrifies me, Cedric.” 

“It’s our fight too, Mom.” 

“I know, and what you’ve been doing with that Defense group is important work. Just…” she shook her head, “nothing is going to stop me from worrying. That’s a mother’s prerogative, I’m afraid. Just promise me you and Harry will be careful.” 

“I promise.” 

* * *

On the very last day of the holidays, something happened that made Harry positively dread returning to school, shattering the relative day to day peace that had settled over him. Snape informed Harry that, in hopes of preventing any mental link between Harry and Voldemort, Harry would be starting Occlumency lessons with him. Sirius and Snape almost came to blows on the subject. 

Not that Harry exactly fancied the idea, he thought, fuming as he marched upstairs, away from the conversation. The thought of anyone...especially Snape...invading his mind was downright terrifying. Harry lay down on the bed with a groan, rubbing his temples. 

Cedric, predictably, followed a few minutes later. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat down on the bed and rubbed small, comforting circles into Harry’s back. 

“I don’t want him in my head,” Harry said flatly, staring off into the distance, “Cedric what if he sees…” 

_ What if he sees the Dursleys?  _

Cedric sighed, “I know Harry. But...these nightmares...it terrifies me to think what would happen if...Voldemort did try to attack your mind and you were defenceless. You have shouldered so much pain Harry, and we both know…” 

“I know,” Harry said softly, reaching for Cedric’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, “It’s just not a horribly nice idea to contemplate at all.” 

Cedric nodded, “I’ll be there, whenever you need me.” 

“And I’ll be here,” Harry said softly, sitting up and leaning against his soulmate’s chest. “Whenever you need me.” 

“And somehow,” Cedric said, with a smile that only barely reached his eyes, “Life will go on.” 

* * *

Sirius gave Harry something else before they departed, wrapped in nondescript brown paper. He said it was a way for Harry to contact him, though Mrs. Weasley would never approve. Harry quietly promised himself never to use it, knowing he could not be responsible for being the one putting Sirius in danger and pulling him out of the safety of Grimmauld Place. 

They rode back to Hogwarts on the Knight Bus, Remus and Tonks accompanying them to the grounds of Hogwarts. Along the walk Harry’s hand found Cedric’s, both of them aware the relaxation they had enjoyed for the holidays was ending as they stepped back within those walls. As the castle approached Harry felt a pressure settle around them; within those walls they had to be discreet about their relationship. It was more than just general caution, with Umbridge it was a matter of safety. 

Then, in the middle of dinner, Harry felt the soft vibration in his pendant increase. It startled him for a moment, until he realized what it was and pulled on the chain to wrap his hand around the pendant. 

“ _ You look beautiful, you know?”  _ Cedric’s voice sounded as clear and as loud as if he was speaking directly next to Harry’s ear, but Harry understood instantly that only he could hear this message.  _ “I love you to the moon and beyond.”  _

Harry felt a smile pull at his face as warmth spread down his neck and his heart fluttered in his chest.  _ “Aperta vocem meam,”  _ he muttered quietly to himself. 

_ Love you too,  _ he thought firmly, looking across the great hall to meet Cedric’s grey eyes.  _ And I’m sure I don’t look half as handsome as Pretty Boy Diggory. _

Cedric snorted, smiling widely. 

The next day classes started, and Harry found himself constantly stopped by members of the D.A. asking about the time of their next meeting. Harry scowled, his mood worsening as he realized lessons with Snape would make it even more difficult to schedule the meetings. He was dreading that evening and could think of little less. 

Cedric pulled him aside into an alcove before dinner, casting several quick privacy charms. Harry wasn’t sure if it was the freedom they had enjoyed over Christmas or just his general frustration with life; as soon as Cedric’s lips touched his, he realized how difficult the day had been to get through--how much he had been craving Cedric’s presence. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Cedric said softly, their foreheads resting against each other. “Before your lesson with Snape.” 

“Mmm,” Harry said noncommittally. A smile twitched at his lips, “Better now.” 

Cedric brushed away a loose lock of Harry’s hair, tucking it behind his ear, “Well…” he smiled, “I think I have something to cheer you up. The notice board has the date of the next Hogsmeade trip, it’s on Valentine’s Day. I was wondering if...I might take my boyfriend out on a proper date?” 

Harry beamed, wide and honestly true. His heart felt like it might leap out of his chest; they hadn’t had the chance for many actual dates in the months they had been together. Picnic lunches taken largely to avoid the student population, insomnia and anxiety driven trips to the kitchens for cocoa, and study sessions in the library weren’t really the same. 

“I’d love that,” he said softly. Then reality struck him and he frowned, “but isn’t it risky Cedric? If we’re seen leaving together and coming back, Umbridge…” 

Cedric gave him a playful shove, “Oh come on,  _ Harry Potter,  _ Mr. I-have-an-invisibility-cloak-and-a-peculiar-bit-of-funny-old-parchment. I hardly think, with everything we’re facing, a Valentine’s date is the most dangerous thing we can do. We’ll leave together and meet up in Hogsmeade.” 

Harry smiled, sighing a bit with relief. Cedric was right, it really wouldn’t be that hard, though it would suck having to sneak around, unlike the other couples leaving that day. Harry’s thoughts returned to his upcoming lesson and his frown returned. 

* * *

“I am about to attempt to break into your mind,” Snape said softly. “We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse...You will find that similar powers are needed for this...Brace yourself... _ Legilimens!”  _

Snape had struck before Harry was ready, before Harry had even begun to summon any force of resistance: the office swam in front of his eyes and vanished, image after image was racing through his mind like a flickering film so vivid it blinded him to his surroundings…

He was five, watching Dudley riding a new red bike, his heart aching with longing...He was nine, and Aunt Marge was casually suggesting to his Uncle that caning might be more effective...He was sitting under the Sorting hat, it was telling him he would do well in Slytherin...he was lying in the Hospital Wing third year, Cedric was coming to visit him...A hundred dementors were closing in on the black lake...Cedric was leaning into kiss him after a month separated them…

_ No,  _ said a voice in Harry’s head, as the memory drew nearer.  _ That’s private.  _ Distantly, somewhere physical, removed from the mental landscape he was battling on, he felt the pendant warm around his neck. That gave him a point to focus on, to draw himself back. It wasn’t unlike the process of pulling himself out of a particularly bad panic attack. 

He felt a sharp pain in his knee. He had fallen to the floor, one of his knees colliding painfully with the leg of the desk. He looked up at Snape, who had lowered his wand and was rubbing his wrist. There was an angry weal there, like a scorch mark. The professor was staring at him, an unfamiliar look on his face.

“What?” Harry snapped, not in the mood to be particularly polite. 

“Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?” he asked coolly. 

“What?” 

“As I suspected, I thought not,” Snape said, watching him closely, “You let me go too far. You lost control.” 

Harry got to his feet, annoyed by the faint trembling in his hands. “Did you see everything I saw?” he asked, not sure if he wanted the answers. 

“Flashes of it,” Snape answered, his lip curling. “Who was the woman?” 

“My Aunt Marge,” Harry muttered, hating Snape. 

“Did she--” 

“No,” Harry interjected sharply, “I think we’d better try again, Professor.” 

“Manners, Potter,” Snape said dangerously, “Let go of all emotion, close your eyes. You need more discipline for this...Focus now...Let’s go again...on the count of three...one--two--three-- _ Legilimens! _ ” 

The Horntail was opening its mouth, fire pouring forth...His father and mother were waving at him out of an enchanted mirror...Cedric’s body was lying dead, tied to a gravestone…

“NOOOOO!” 

He was on his knees again, his face buried in his hands, his brain aching as though someone had been trying to pull it from his skull. He felt panic building in his chest, tightening like a snake, his breath was seizing in his lungs…

_ Not real, not real, not real,  _ Harry thought to himself desperately. Instinctually his hand went to the pendent, and the steady thrum of the heartbeat of Cedric’s magic against his skin calmed him. 

“Get up!” Snape said sharply, “Get up! Are you really such a sniveling coward? You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, you are handing me weapons!” 

_ You foul git! _

Harry stood up again, his heart pounding frantically in his chest. Snape looked angrier than usual, though not nearly as angry as Harry felt. 

“I am making an effort,” he spat through gritted teeth. 

“I told you to empty yourself of emotion!” 

“Yeah? Well, I’m finding that hard at the moment,” Harry snarled. 

“Then you find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!” Snape retorted savagely, “Fools who wear their heart proudly on their sleeves, on  _ their wrists _ , who cannot control their emotions, who wallow about pitying themselves and allow themselves to be easily provoked--weak people, in other words--stand no chance! This... _ attachment _ you have to the Diggory boy makes you  _ fragile _ . The Dark Lord will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!” 

“I am not weak, or fragile!” Harry said in a low voice, his fury close to a boiling point. 

“Prove it! Master yourself!” Snape spat, “Ready yourself, control your anger, discipline your feeble mind!  _ Legilimens!”  _

Uncle Vernon was smacking the leather belt against the door of the cupboard, inside the darkness Harry was crying...A hundred dementors were drifting across the lake in the ground towards him...he was staring at the photo Cedric gave him for his birthday...He was running along a windowless passage with Mr. Weasley...the day of his trial...Mr. Weasley led him off to the left, away from the black door, down a flight of stone steps…

“I KNOW! I KNOW!” 

He was on all fours again on Snape’s office floor, his scar was prickling unpleasantly, but his chest was filling with a triumphant feeling. He pushed himself up again to find Snape staring at him, his wand raised. This time it looked like Snape had been the one to pull back. 

“Who was that man?” Snape demanded tersely. 

Harry stared at him, confused, “Mr. Weasley?” 

“No, Potter, the other one.” 

_ Oh. Shit.  _

“My Uncle,” Harry spat. “I’m not talking about it to you, so don’t even ask!” His voice was tight and loud with fury. Snape stared at him for a long moment, then inclined his head in silent relent. 

_ Really?  _ Harry was startled for a moment,  _ guess you do have a shred of decency.  _

“What’s in the Department of Mysteries?” Harry blurted out, cutting through the tension. 

But Snape didn’t tell him anything about the Department of Mysteries, and shortly after an argument about saying Voldemort’s name, it was time for Harry to leave. Harry did so gladly, gathering his bag and practically storming out of the room. 

Cedric was there, waiting, and he smiled amicably in greeting. As he took in Harry’s expression, however, his smile faded to concern, “Harry? What happened--oh!” 

Harry, not caring for a moment who the bloody hell caught them, and rushed forward into a hug. It was one thing to see in his mind Cedric dead and know, logically, that he was alright. It was quite another thing to see him in person, hold him close, feel their magic brush together across their bond…

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, breaking apart as they started walking to the library. “I just…” 

“You’re trembling,” Cedric observed softly, “Harry…” 

“I saw you die...in the graveyard, when I thought you were gone...” Harry’s voice was strangely distant. Part of him felt like crying, like falling apart, but a stronger part of him took a deep breath and steadied himself, “and Snape saw my Uncle…” 

“Merlin, Harry,” Cedric said, pulling him back into a hug, “Are you okay? Bloody hell, of course you’re not okay. How can I...can I help?” 

“I don’t know Cedric,” Harry said honestly, “But thank you.” 

They found Ron and Hermione in the library, working through the latest of Umbridge’s homework. In hushed whispers he explained the lesson to them. At the bit about the pendant both Cedric and Hermione turned in surprise, then looked a bit crestfallen when he told them what Snape had said about it. Hermione frowned, then got the look in her eyes that meant she would be tearing the library apart for some obscure bit of knowledge, but didn’t say any more on the matter. 

As soon as he stepped into the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, Harry’s forehead erupted in pain. Horrible, cackling, cold, high laughter was echoing in his ears. Voldemort was really happy, and it didn’t take them long to figure out why. 

The  _ Daily Prophet  _ the next day carried the news of the mass breakout from Azkaban. 

His pendant vibrated,  _ “Are you okay?”  _

_ No,  _ was Harry’s short reply. 

Harry was feeling sick, could not eat anymore, and found his mood rather reflected the cold, dank, dreary January weather throughout the month. The tension in the school grew. Students had grown up hearing the names of the escaped Death Eaters associated with only one emotion: fear. Hagrid was put on probation and both Care of Magical Creatures and Divination were under constant Umbridge observation. 

Moments with Cedric and D.A. meetings were brief flashes of light in an overwhelming darkness. One day, at Kayla’s suggestion, Harry gathered the group together for a photograph. Looking at it later, Harry found his smile abruptly fading, and he almost puked thinking about the photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix and the horrible fates that befell so many of them. 

_ NO,  _ he swore to himself.  _ I won’t let that happen to us.  _

Occlumency lessons seemed to only get worse. 

Harry’s scar was constantly aching, but he refused to see Madam Pomfrey about it even when Cedric and his friends pestered. There really wasn’t any point. Umbridge found several excuses to assign both Cedric and Harry detention, not helping with the lack of sleep they were both suffering from as their nightmares returned. Harry saw Cedric less and less, between Cedric’s extra studying for his Healer interview and Umbridge’s scrutiny. 

January ended and February dawned; the Hogsmeade date neared. At least there was something to look forward to, but Harry found he wanted nothing more than to curl up for a decade and sleep. 

* * *

The D.A. was paired off in practice duels and Harry found himself momentarily adrift, no one appearing to require his immediate assistance. His gaze wandered to one particular pair, Cedric and Gavin. Gavin, his long dark braid tied back for the duel, was a vivacious opponent, but Cedric had him in general finesse. Harry would be lying if he didn’t admit Cedric looked incredibly hot. 

“Like what you see?” someone chuckled, and Harry whirled around to see James. 

“Yeah,” he laughed lightly, surprised that he wasn’t embarrassed at all. 

“Me too,” James muttered. “Not your boy, obviously, Cedric might as well be my brother. The other one.” 

“Oh,” Harry raised his eyebrows, looking back at Gavin. “Have you told him?” 

“No,” James sighed. “Probably won’t anytime too soon. Gavin’s got too much going on in his life, what he needs is a friend.” 

“Hmm…” Harry trailed off. “What, exactly? What’s...going on?”

James grimaced. “His father is a dick, left them years ago, and his mother can’t do much, she’s a Muggle. Gavin thinks, with what’s going on, he’s the sole shield between Kayla and...everything. That’s why it took so long for Cedric and I to convince him to let her come.” 

“Ah,” Harry said softly. “Well, I can’t say I know you both very well, but it’s my experience that the people we love make hard situations...not necessarily easier but…” 

“Manageable?” James said softly. 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Maybe you should tell him.” 

James chuckled, “Between you and Cedric, I’m never going to hear the end of this, are I?” 

“Probably not,” Harry grinned. “Listen, James, Cedric’s really good friends with my friends, and I feel kind of horrible realizing I didn’t do the same. I want to get to know you and Gavin. It’s mildly dangerous to associate with me, I have to admit, just...don’t be a stranger.” 

“Same to you, Harry,” James smiled. 

* * *

On the morning of the fourteenth Cedric found himself worrying about what to wear. Gavin and James, while wonderful friends, had never been the place to solicit opinions on clothing. He fought the urge to run to Ravenclaw tower and desperately plead for Cho’s advice--or Gryffindor tower to plead for Hermione's advice for that matter--but he knew both of them would laugh their heads off at him. So he didn’t, choosing an outfit and reminding himself that he was seventeen years old, that he really had bigger things to worry about. 

Like the Healer apprenticeship interview. Like the psychopathic toad of a professor. 

Like the mass murderers that wanted to kill his boyfriend. 

_ Positive thoughts,  _ Cedric reminded himself as he walked down the corridors of Hogwarts,  _ Harry needs something normal and happy. I need something normal and happy. Today is going to be a good day.  _

Harry was waiting for him down the road to Hogsmeade, out of sight of where Filch or Umbridge was likely to see them. Cedric greeted him with a quick kiss and, with their fingers intertwined, they set off. 

“It’s a bit weird, isn’t it?” Harry said after a while, “A Hufflepuff-Gryffindor match and neither of us are playing.” 

Cedric’s smile abruptly fell, and it dawned on him that this would likely have been the last Hogwarts Quidditch match they  _ ever  _ got to play against each other. They hadn’t faced off on broomsticks since...Harry’s third year. That felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Yeah,” he said sadly, “it is.” 

Harry looked at him with concern, “Cedric, hey,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean...I’m sorry I upset you.” 

Cedric managed to return a smile to his face and he fondly ruffled the perpetual mess of dark hair on Harry’s head, “Not your fault, Harry. I’m just an overly sentimental Seventh Year.” 

Harry relaxed slightly, and they chatted amicably about blissfully unimportant things as they walked. 

“Hermione wants us to meet her and Ron at the Three Broomsticks at midday,” Harry said.

Cedric smiled, once again grateful that Harry’s friends had brought him so easily into their dynamic, “Great! What d’you want to do till then?” 

Harry shrugged, blushing slightly, “Er, I’ve never really been on a...date? What do people normally do?” 

“Normal people aren’t half as interesting as us,” Cedric said deadpan, “unless you really do want to go sit in a crowded tea shop. I went to Madam Pudifoot’s with Cho last year, too sweet for my tastes and everyone there will stare at us.” 

Harry chuckled, “No, I think I’m alright without that, thanks.” 

“Are you sure?” Cedric teased, “I’d even brave the coffee cake for you.” 

“I’m sure,” Harry said, snorting a bit, “though I do appreciate the protection.” 

“Let’s just look at shops for a bit,” Cedric suggested, “and potentially some of the alleys between them, which are remarkably toad free this time of year.” 

This, to Cedric’s delight, got another laugh out of Harry.

They walked around and about for a bit, just talking quietly and holding hands. It was nice, peaceful even, to be just one of many Hogwarts couples drifting about the village. It felt...normal in a way most things in their lives didn’t anymore. 

Eventually they came upon a shadowed, empty alleyway. Harry, grinning mischievously, pulled Cedric--who was not about to argue--along. Behind a few hasty privacy spells, Cedric pulled Harry close, sealing their faces together, losing himself a bit in the sensation that was...Harry. Earth, soft peppermint, mildly sweet…

At Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, they both bought some school supplies they needed. Cedric found a new journal for them to put D.A. notes in. The meticulous notes, often written by Hermione, seemed excessive at first glance, but had proved invaluable to their lesson planning. He and Harry split the cost.

When they got to Honeydukes, Cedric walked in with a plan. He was going to be a romantic and buy Harry’s sweets for him. This plan was quickly foiled by Harry, who insisted on buying  _ Cedric’s  _ sweets for him. Cedric never thought he would blush like a First Year. The warm look the shopkeeper gave them as Harry did this immediately proved that theory wrong. 

They arrived at the Three Broomsticks early, thinking they could spend some time there anyways, and happily stumbled upon Hagrid. Cedric frowned, seeing the gamekeeper’s mournful expression and knowing Harry, who had known the man personally for far longer, would handle this better than he would. 

“I’ll get us a couple Butterbeers,” Cedric suggested softly, “Talk to Hagrid for a bit.” 

“Thanks, Cedric,” Harry said, squeezing his hand tightly before they broke apart. 

Cedric returned, Butterbeers in hand. Minutes later Hermione arrived...with Luna Lovegood and Rita Skeeter. Cedric scowled at the woman, shooting Hermione a questioning look. Remembering the nightmare Skeeter caused Harry the year before, Cedric had to restrain himself from drawing his wand. 

“You’re early!” Hermione said, sitting down beside them, “I wasn’t expecting you for another hour at least?” 

“Interrupting something, are we?” Skeeter asked, staring at Harry. 

“ _ That _ is none of your business,” Hermione snarled in a tone that made Cedric very glad she was on their side, “One more word about Harry’s love life and the deal’s off--and the promise.” 

Thankfully, Skeeter turned to other matters after that. It turned out Hermione had arranged for Harry and Cedric to give an interview to be published in  _ The Quibbler,  _ giving them a chance to tell their story. For an interview about the most traumatic event of their lives, it went rather well. They held tightly to each other’s hand under the table as the details of the graveyard were recounted, a constant reminder to each other that they survived. 

Despite Hermione’s threat, Skeeter inevitably questioned their relationship, insinuating Harry might be coercing Cedric. Cedric had to fight back his anger here, and they managed to insist that they were just friends. After the end of last year, knowledge of their relationship was generally public, though their soulmarks were hidden. Cedric shuddered to think what Umbridge would do if she had proof on paper. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back from the break with Part II! 
> 
> Mo Leanbh: My Child
> 
> A huge thank you, as always, to Tree Spiral, the amazing beta for this project!


	12. We Do What We Can

**Chapter 12: We Do What We Can**

Luna vaguely said that she did not know how soon Rita’s interview with Harry and Cedric would appear in  _ The Quibbler _ . Harry found himself nervous about it, it hadn’t been easy for him or Cedric to recount the events of that night in the graveyard when Voldemort returned. But the breakout of Bellatrix Lestrange, of so many Death Eaters, left Harry with a burning desire to do something, whether it worked or not…

“We are doing something,” Cedric reminded him quietly one evening, as they sat together in the library, “I meant what I said last fall about the D. A. Harry. You’re giving a lot of them a fighting chance no one else was going to.” 

Harry pursed his lips, sighing in frustration, “I just wish the Ministry would actually  _ do something,  _ Cedric. Kayla is thirteen, she shouldn’t be learning how to stop a friend dying of blood loss or defend her life in a duel. They shouldn’t have to fight at all. ”

“Neither should you,” Cedric said softly, resting a hand on Harry’s and rubbing small circles into it, “a lot of things aren’t how they should be Harry.” 

“That’s not good enough, Cedric,” Harry snapped, frustrated. He pulled his hand away and began to pack up his things, angrily shoving his books into his bag, “I need to get back to Gryffindor tower.” 

“Harry…” Cedric trailed off. Harry turned, and felt himself deflate the moment he saw the look in his boyfriend’s eyes. 

_ I’m a stupid git and a horrible boyfriend,  _ he thought sullenly, sitting back down with a sigh.  _ You're not the only one who’s struggling. You’re not the only one that interview was hard for.  _

_ But all of this is your fault.  _

“I’m sorry,” he said tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I’m really, really sorry.” 

“Harry,” Cedric's hand was on his shoulder,softly reassuring, “It’s okay.” 

“It’s really not,” Harry muttered, “my blood is running in the veins of a homicidal madman and we’re teaching twelve year olds what to do if they get attacked by his followers and the Ministry…” 

“Is run by a man blinded by fear,” Cedric supplied, “but you can’t take all of that on your shoulders Harry. You’re just fifteen. Nobody should expect you to save the world.” 

“Someone has too,” Harry said darkly. 

“No,” Cedric said firmly, “no one is in this alone, certainly not you. No individual is going to save us all. We’re just going to do what we can.” 

* * *

The letter came at breakfast on Sunday. 

At first Cedric didn’t think anything of it, he went on eating and talking to James about their upcoming Charms test; it was only when Gavin’s hands began to tremble as he read it that he knew something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. 

“Gav?” Cedric asked tentatively. 

“I..she..” Gavin trailed off. “My mother...oh, Merlin, how am I going to…” 

“What happened?” James asked gently. 

Shakily, Gavin folded the letter, shoving it into a pocket of his robes and abruptly standing up. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I need...” Gavin, normally so unshakable, was crying. 

“Gavin--” James reached out for Gavin’s arm. He pulled away. 

And then he was gone, sweeping from the Great Hall.

Cedric turned slowly to James, both of them looking at each other in blank shock for a moment. There didn’t seem to be quite the right words to describe any of what had just happened, but one thing was clear; their friend was hurting. He was trying not to show it, as usual, but he was. Cedric felt consumed by the need to protect his friend, to provide any comfort he could, to get him through whatever this new struggle was. 

_ Is there anything we can do?  _

“We need to go after him,” James said finally, quietly getting to his feet. 

Cedric quickly followed. He saw Harry as they left the Great Hall, looking after them with an expression of genuine concern. Cedric tried to muster a reassuring smile, but knew it didn’t reach his eyes. 

They found Gavin on the edge of the Black Lake, crying softly, the letter clutched tightly in his hand, sitting by the old ash tree they had spent so much time under in earlier years. When did they stop coming there often? Cedric wasn’t sure he could quite remember when, or why for that matter. James and Cedric sat down silently on either side of their friend, resting against the tree. 

When Gavin finally began to talk, it was barely more than a whisper, his voice shaky and broken. 

“Muggles…” He trailed off, then took a deep, steadying breath. “I told you there was a Muggle disease that almost killed her two years ago, right? My...my mom, I mean.” 

“Yeah,” James said softly. “You did.” His hand was resting on Gavin’s. 

“It’s called cancer,” Gavin said, and he seemed to die a little on the inside at the last word. “And it came back, and they didn’t catch it fast enough this time. It’s...everywhere in her now. She’s dying. They gave her until the end of the summer.” 

“Gavin…” James trailed off, and then he was wrapping their friend in his arms as he sobbed, and it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Cedric moved a bit closer, resting a hand on Gavin’s back and rubbing small, reassuring circles. Once again, he found himself helpless in the face of the pain of someone he loved. Once again, he found himself cursing that magical medicine worked off the magical cores of wizards and witches and was useless for Muggles. Once again, there was nothing to do to fix the world. 

But perhaps the world didn’t need fixing; the world wasn’t really broken. Machines break, machines can be fixed as if nothing happened. The world was a living thing; the world was wounded, not broken. Gavin was wounded, not broken. Wounds heal, they aren't fixed, and healing takes time. 

From somewhere distant, he felt his mother’s words echoing back at him. 

_ “Sometimes, Cedric, there’s nothing we can do to fix each other’s problems. Sometimes the wounds are too deep, too horrible. Sometimes the only thing we can do is sit in each other’s pain and bear witness. And it’s not enough, not really, but somehow it has to be. We do what we can.”  _

“She…” when Gavin spoke again, his voice was hoarse and small. “Mom, only a fraction of that letter was about her. She kept saying how proud she was of me and Kay and going on about how the fund for our education should last a few more years...as if any of that matters now. She’s going to leave us...I can’t do this without her. I can’t do this alone. Oh, Merlin and Jesus, how am I going to tell Kayla?” 

“You’re not alone, Gavin,” Cedric said firmly, his hand resting on his shoulder. “You never were, and you never will be. When the time comes, you will have places to call home, you always will. We’ll be here, we won’t leave you.” 

“Never,” James said softly, the weight of his word resting in the air. 

* * *

Cedric didn’t walk up to the Quidditch pitch even vaguely in the mood for watching a game. James and he had practically had to drag Gavin out for it, and they were both forcing themselves to be excited to try and lighten the mood. It had been a hard week. 

The look in Kayla’s eyes when they broke the news to her still haunted him. Just thirteen, facing the impending loss of the only guardian she had in her life-- _ No,  _ Cedric reminded himself.  _ She has Gavin. It shouldn’t be a weight he has to take, but he is all the same. Never forget that.  _

Later, alone with Harry in their Room of Requirement space, Cedric had fallen apart a bit, and Harry had helped hold him together. The weight of trying to support Gavin through this was...almost suffocating at times, and Harry had been there to remind him he wasn’t alone either. 

The very best thing you could say about the match was that it was short; the Gryffindor spectators had to endure only twenty-two minutes of agony. Cedric’s replacement as captain--annoyingly Zacharias Smith--had managed to find a fair Seeker and the Hufflepuff team wasn’t missing almost half their normal roster. Ron couldn’t stop Quaffles to save his life when people were watching, the new Gryffindor beaters had no idea how to work together, and Kirke straight up fell off his broom. The only mercy was that Gryffindor only lost by ten points, Ginny managed to catch the Snitch and bring the final score to two hundred and forty versus two hundred and thirty. 

Cedric found he wasn’t very happy about his clapping. He forced some enthusiasm for the sake of helping James distract Gavin, but his heart wasn’t in it. He wanted to be on the field, leading his team to victory, if he was going to be celebrating it. He wanted to be on the field, flying against Harry. Cedric had looked forward to this game all year, and Umbridge had taken that away. 

_ But no amount of anger is going to really help us,  _ He reminded himself, making his way down to offer forced congratulations to his House team. Cedric looked over and caught a glimpse of Harry, moving along in a swarm of Gryffindor students, and resolved to find him before curfew that evening. It had to be just as frustrating, if not more, for Harry to watch. 

He turned and nearly stumbled with surprise; from a distance away, Umbridge was staring at him, her wide toad’s mouth stretched in a gloating smile. Cedric fought back the wave of anger, looking away with disgust, and ran to catch up with his friends. 

* * *

Cedric seemed to always know when Harry needed company, and Harry found this was no exception to that. The Quidditch match, with Umbridge turning around every few minutes to smile gloatingly in his direction, had left him irritable at best and depressed at worst. He had no idea how to help Ron, his best friend. He had no idea how to help Gavin, Cedric’s best friend. The world seemed to be cracking into shards around them. 

Two hours before curfew Cedric showed up at the portrait hole to invite him along to the kitchens for some hot cocoa. Harry, eager to give the general gloomy mood of the tower some space, happily said yes. 

The company and talk helped calm him, soothing his anger even as they both discussed the issues that frustrated them to no end. Cedric was taking the news about Gavin’s mother hard; Harry knew he considered Gavin and James to be family more than friends. He could understand, even if he wasn’t particularly close to the two older Hufflepuffs--it was how Harry felt about Ron and Hermione. 

It was relieving to have someone to talk to, someone who understood. Both of them needed it. 

When Harry finally turned in for the night he was almost able to sort of clear his mind before he slept. He worked on negative emotions, on clearing thoughts of Snape and Umbridge out of his mind entirely, but it was hard to leave a void in their wake. Where there wasn’t anger, there was regret, and where there was not regret, there was fear, and where there was not fear, there was still lingering anxiety, guilt, and dread. 

He dreamt he was waltzing with Cedric around the Room of Requirements. For a moment it was happy, blissful even. Then Umbridge appeared, even though there should have been no way for her to be there, scribbling on a clipboard. The words on Cedric’s hand erupted with blood and the sound of his screams filled the room…

Harry fled through the door, but when he left the room he found himself facing not the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, but a torch burning in its bracket on a stone wall. He turned his head slowly to the left and there, at the far end of the windowless passage, was the plain, black door. 

He walked toward it with a sense of mounting excitement and trepidation, for once it was opening...there was a faint blue light radiating out from the right hand side of it...the door was ajar...he reached out to push it…

Ron gave a load, rasping, genuine snore, and Harry awoke abruptly with his right hand stretched in front of him in the darkness, reaching for a door that was two hundred miles away. When he could not get back to sleep he recast the silencing charms around his bed and opened the small silver box Cedric had given him at Christmas. The tune drifted out, enveloping him like a warm hug, piano notes dancing in his mind with soft colors. 

* * *

_ HARRY POTTER AND CEDRIC DIGGORY SPEAK OUT AT LAST _

_ THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED  _

_ AND THE NIGHT WE SAW HIM RETURN _

Harry stared for a moment at  _ The Quibbler  _ article. On the front of it was a picture of Harry and Cedric, an old picture from the Triwizard tournament. He shared a glance with Cedric from across the hall, giving him a small nod. Both of them seemed to have a small pile of letters, and Harry tried to focus on the fact that at least a few people seemed to believe them. 

That had to be better than nothing, right? 

There were, of course, consequences for the article. When Umbridge saw it, she banned Harry and Cedric from Hogsmeade, took away points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and gave them both a week and a half of detention. They were to serve alternating nights with her and Filch. They had discussed this before, the consequences of saying publicly what they had, and agreed it was worth it. 

By mid-morning copies of  _ The Quibbler  _ were contraband. Professor Umbridge was stalking the school, stopping students at random to make them turn out their pockets. Hermione’s theory that this would make people read it turned out to be right, by the end of the day there didn’t seem to be a person in the school who  _ hadn’t  _ read it. 

And it seemed, hearteningly, that a small handful actually believed him. 

Harry was a hero in the Gryffindor common room, and he could only hope Cedric was receiving a similar reception in Hufflepuff House. Though he doubted Hufflepuff had an enlarged cover of  _ The Quibbler, _ showing Harry and Cedric’s faces and occasionally insulting Umbridge or the Ministry. 

Left alone in the dark dormitory, when he finally drifted off to sleep, Harry didn’t just have a vision about Voldemort, he had a vision in which he  _ was  _ Voldemort, talking to a man named Rockwood. 

He woke up screaming. 

“What?” a nearby voice yelled. 

Harry flailed madly, becoming entangled in the hangings of his bed and falling with a painful thud on to the floor. For a few seconds he did not know where he was and he was convinced that he was about to see the white, skull-like face looming at him out of the dark again, then Ron’s voice spoke near to him. 

Ron managed to help him calm down and help him out of the hangings. 

“Did you see You-Know-Who?” he asked, pressing a glass of water into Harry’s hands. 

“I  _ was  _ You-Know-Who,” Harry said quietly, going on to explain the nightmare in more detail. 

“Harry,” Ron said, looking at him concerned, “you’ve got to tell--” 

“I haven’t got to tell anyone,” Harry said shortly. “I wouldn’t have seen it at all if I could do Occlumency properly. I’m supposed to have learned to shut this stuff out. That’s what  _ they  _ want.” 

By “they” he meant Dumbledore. He got back into bed and rolled over onto his side with his back to Ron and after a while he heard Ron’s mattress creak as he lay back down too. His scar began to burn; he bit down hard on the pillow to keep from crying out, and drifted fitfully off to sleep. 

And in his nightmares he returned to the graveyard. But this time he did not return to the graveyard as Harry Potter...he crawled out of a cauldron and robed himself in shadows...he held the wand that made Cedric scream…

* * *

Cedric did not fail to notice at breakfast that his boyfriend refused to eat anything, even at Hermione’s prompting. That was cause for concern, even without the look in Harry’s gaze when Cedric managed to catch his eyes. Harry looked distant, drawn far into himself with worry or...guilt? 

_ What’s wrong Harry?  _ Cedric thought, glancing to the staff table and knowing he didn’t dare sit at the Gryffindor table with Umbridge watching. Under his breath he muttered the spell to activate the soulvoice link between the pendants. 

_ What’s wrong, love?  _ he thought firmly, channeling the message through the link. 

_ “A lot. We need to talk, soon. Love you.”  _

He managed to catch up with the Gryffindor trio before lunch and they pulled him along to a shadowed alcove, Hermione casting privacy charms immediately. Cedric listened as Harry explained his nightmare--his vision--from the night before. 

“And now Rookwood’s told Voldemort how to get the weapon?”

“I didn’t hear all the conversation, but that’s what it sounded like,” Harry said quietly. “Rookwood used to work there...Maybe Voldemort’ll send Rookwood to do it?” 

Hermione nodded, apparently still lost in thought. Then, quite abruptly she said, “But you shouldn’t have seen this at all, Harry.” 

“What?” Harry said, taken aback. 

“You’re supposed to be learning how to close your mind to this sort of thing,” Hermione said, suddenly stern. 

“I know I am,” Harry said, grimacing. 

“Hey,” Cedric said, gently resting a hand on Harry’s shoulders, “It’s alright. There’s a lot going on, getting frustrated with it won’t help if you need to stay calm for this to work.” 

Hermione pursed her lips, “Well, keep trying, okay? I think we should just try and forget what you saw,” she said firmly. “And you ought to put in a bit more effort on your Occlumency from now on.” 

And with that Hermione and Ron left them. Cedric turned to Harry, aware instantly of the younger boy’s anger. He sighed, wincing as Harry flinched away from his touch, “She’s just trying to help, Harry,” he said softly, “that’s all of us are trying to do. Even Snape.” 

“I know,” Harry muttered bitterly. “It’s just...It’s impossible, Cedric! With everything going on...and my nightmares and...I’m just...tired of it all.” 

Cedric could tell there was something bothering him.  _ What’s wrong, Harry?  _ He wondered, seeing the conflicted emotions battling on Harry’s face.  _ Please...I’m here.  _ Harry did not meet his eyes for a long moment. Cedric did not push him. He was aware distantly that class time was ticking near, but they still had at least a quarter of an hour. 

“I had another nightmare,” Harry said finally, his voice taut, “after I fell asleep, after the vision. I was back...I was back in the graveyard. But this was different.” 

“Different?” Cedric stared at him, concerned and confused. 

Harry turned back to him, the light in his green eyes tight with pain, “I wasn’t me,” he said softly, barely a whisper, “I was...I was  _ him.”  _ His voice broke then, and he began to tremble, “I hurt you.” 

_ Oh Merlin.  _

“Harry,” Cedric rested his hands on the younger boy’s shoulder, meeting his gaze steadily, “Listen to me; that wasn’t you.” 

“But it was, Cedric!” Harry cried, slumping against the wall, “you should never have been there, you shouldn’t have been attacked this summer, and you shouldn’t have those horrible words carved into your skin. And you wouldn’t, if it weren’t for me.” 

Cedric took a deep breath, steadying himself. Words failed him for a moment, staring helplessly at the pain in Harry’s eyes.  _ I thought we were past this Harry. Why do you have to take everything on yourself like this?  _

“For the hundredth time, Harry,” Cedric said finally, trying not to let his internal frustration show, “none of this is your fault.” 

“Hermione’s right though,” Harry said through gritted teeth, “I need to be working harder at Occlumency.” 

“Maybe if you weren’t being taught by  _ Snape  _ of all people. It’s just...the two of you have a bitter history, Harry. You, frankly, despise the man. If Occlumency relies on controlling emotions, this doesn’t seem like the right way to go about learning it.” Cedric sighed, wishing once again he had some guidance or knowledge to help Harry. “I’m going to do some extra research--” 

“Cedric, no,” Harry said, “You’re already busy with N.E.W.T.s and your Healer interview. Focus on that, please. Let me handle this.” 

Cedric stared at him for a long moment, then relented, “Okay Harry. But don’t...don’t keep these things from me, alright? I’m always here to listen, and talk.” 

“I know,” Harry said softly, pulling him into a hug, “I talked to you today, right?” 

* * *

Harry had walked up to the dorm to retrieve a book, expecting it to be empty at that hour of the afternoon, and was quite surprised to see Seamus there. He hadn’t been outwardly hostile towards Harry since the beginning of the year, but the tension between them had lain unspoken over the atmosphere of the dorm. Now, however, Seamus didn’t seem angry at all. 

“Harry! I uh…” Seamus ran his fingers through his hair, looking nervous. “I wanted to apologize. I know everything me Mam and the Prophet are saying is drabble. So uh...what I’m really trying to say is, I mean, I believe you.” 

Harry, for a long moment, didn’t know how to react. Unbidden, Seamus’ words from the beginning of the year echoed back at him. 

_ “Not just a madman either, a goddam poofter.”  _

Scowling, he walked past, headed for his corner of the room. “Fine, thanks I guess,” He muttered as an afterthought. 

“Harry, I really am sorry I…” Seamus trailed off. “I didn’t mean it.” 

Harry snapped, and he couldn’t even precisely tell why it bothered him so much all of a sudden, “You didn’t mean it?” he demanded, whirling around. “The madman part or the poofter part, Seamus? Yeah I remember that,” he snarled. “I honestly expected that from people like Malfoy, but you? You’ve known me for five years!” 

“I know,” Seamus said quietly. “And I was wrong. And, as inadequate as it is, I’m sorry. Look, not that it makes it right, but it was just... _ hard _ with you and Diggory being out and everything because then it was less and less about me believing it was weird or unnatural or whatever and more and more about my own fear. And that terrified me. Some bloody Gryffindor I am, eh? Merlin, I’m an idiot. Sorry.” 

Harry stared at him, the absence of his anger leaving him feeling strangely numb. “Are you…?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Okay, well,” Harry sighed, turning to leave, “It’s fine, I mean it’s whatever really.” 

* * *

“Get up, Potter.” 

A couple of weeks after his dream of Rookwood--a couple weeks in which his nights were filled with the worst nightmares he had since the summer--Harry was to be found, yet again, kneeling on the floor of Snape’s office, trying to clear his head. He had just been forced, yet again, to relive a stream of memories, some of which he did not even realise he had. 

How much of that, he wondered, had he intentionally forgotten? And now  _ Snape  _ had seen the extent of it, the _abuse_ \--Cedric was always insistant Harry use that word. Harry was glad of only one thing, it seemed Snape was content to ignore it. 

“That memory,” Snape said shortly, “What was it?” 

_ Or maybe not?  _

“I don’t know,” Harry snapped, getting wearily to his feet. It was increasingly difficult to separate individual memories in the rush of images and sound Snape called forth. Only recent memories, especially memories concerning Cedric, seemed to really stick out clearly anymore. “You mean the one where my uncle--” 

“No, but that does warrant discussion.” Snape stared at him, “You clearly have things to work through, Potter. I suggest you get on with it.” 

Harry glared at him, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Are you talking about it with anyone?” Snape asked evenly. 

“What kind of question is that?” Harry growled. 

“Potter, you need to be able to clear your mind,” Snape said flatly. “If you don’t work through whatever...all that is, you will struggle. The Dark Lord will tear you apart. Are you going to just let some pathetic Muggles haunt you like that? Are you really that weak, Potter? Only you can pull yourself out of this. Only you can escape the mentality of a  _ victim _ .” 

“I’m not exactly wallowing about!” Harry shouted. “I said I don’t want to talk about it! It’s none of you bloody business!” 

“You’re not dealing with it!” Snape shouted back, “And as long as you are taking these lessons, it is.” 

“It isn’t,” Harry snapped vehemently, fuming with anger. “And you understand nothing about this, so leave it alone.” 

“Potter…” There was something strangely distant in his voice. “I actually meant the one concerning the man kneeling in the middle of a darkened room.” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“You do know why we are here, don’t you, Potter?” Snape said, his voice dangerously low, “I would have thought that after two months’ worth of lessons you might have made some progress. How many other dreams about the Dark Lord have you had?” 

“Just that one,” Harry said. 

_ Liar, _ a voice in his head spat back. 

“Perhaps,” Snape’s eyes narrowed slightly, “perhaps you actually enjoy having these visions and dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special--important?” 

Harry, thinking of the mixture of nightmares and visions he had endured for the past two weeks, wanted to vomit. The past two weeks had hardly left him feeling special or important. Waking up in the morning, unsure if he would see a white, skull-like face staring back at him with red eyes...a nightly ritual of silencing charms...a constant burning in his scar, searing with pain like someone was pressing a hot poker to his forehead...climbing into the shower, rubbing his skin raw and red until it hurt just to escape the darkness...a constant exhaustion that followed him everywhere...he only felt…

Unclean. Frustrated. Weak.  _ Freakish _ . 

That word hadn’t come up in his thoughts for a long time, it almost surprised him. But it didn’t, not really. Sometimes he felt the word  _ freak  _ was ingrained into who he was as much as  _ Harry.  _ Harry scowled as that crossed his mind--he thought he was over all that mess. 

_ Why the bloody hell did you have to bring that up, greasy git?! _ Harry thought angrily, glaring at Snape.  _ This just makes everything more difficult.  _

“No, they don’t,” Harry growled. 

“That is just as well, Potter,” Snape said coldly, “because you are neither special nor important, and we do not need your stuck up Gryffindor pride. Now, if you are ready, we will start again..” 

Snape raised his wand. “One...two...three... _ Legilimens!”  _

A hundred dementors were swooping towards Harry across the lake in the ground, he could hear his mother’s screaming...He screwed up his face in concentration...he was tied to the gravestone, caught in the searing pain of the Cruciatus curse, light gathering at his wrist...The dementors were coming closer...He could see the red of Voldemort’s eyes...He could see the dark holes beneath their hoods...yet he could also see Snape standing in front of him, his eyes fixed on Harry’s face, muttering under his breath, he could feel the steady thrum of the warmth of the pendent resting against his chest...and somehow Snape was growing clearer, and the darkness was growing fainter…

Harry raised his own wand. 

_ “Protego!”  _

Snape staggered; his wand flew upward, away from Harry--and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his own. A hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner...He was inside Snape’s mind...A girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick…

_ I don’t want to be here!  _ His mind shouted, to no one in particular. He staggered back into his own mind, stumbled, and distantly heard something crack as he collided with the shelves. Snape was shaking slightly, very white in the face. 

_ “Reparo!”  _ Snape muttered, sealing the jar that had fallen to the ground. Snape stared at him for a very long moment, “Well, Potter...that was certainly an improvement…” Panting slightly, Snape straightened the Pensieve in which he had stored some of his thoughts before starting the lesson, almost as if checking that they were still there. “There is no doubt that was effective…” 

Harry did not speak; he felt that to say anything might be dangerous. He was sure he had just broken into Snape’s memories, that he had just seen scenes from the man’s childhood, and it was unnerving to rectify those images with the man before him…

Snape raised his wand to begin again. This time Harry did not manage to clear his mind, his thoughts were still racing away from him. He was back in the Department of Mysteries, moving towards the black door, he was moving towards it, the black door flew open! 

He was through it at last, inside a black-walled, black-floored circular room lit with blue-flame candles, and there were more doors all around him--he needed to go on--but which door ought he to take? The room around him began to blur around him, the light of the candles flashing by. Was he spinning or was the room spinning? 

“POTTER!” 

Harry opened his eyes, laying flat on his back, panting heavily. 

“Explain yourself!” Snape snapped, looming over him furiously. 

“I dunno...what happened. I’ve never...the door...it’s never opened before…” 

“You are not working hard enough! You are lazy and sloppy and arrogant, Potter! It is a small wonder that the Dark Lord--” 

_ I’m trying!  _ His thoughts roared back,  _ I’m bloody exhausted, you great git! _

“Can you tell me something,  _ sir _ ? Harry said, pushing himself to his feet to meet Snape’s gaze. “Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord, I’ve only ever heard Death Eaters call him that--” 

Snape opened his mouth in a snarl--and a woman screamed from somewhere outside his room. 

The scream, they discovered, came from the Entrance Hall. Professor Trelawney was standing there, looking quite distraught, holding her wand in one hand and an empty sherry bottle in the other. Two large trunks lay on the ground beside her, one of them looking very much like it had been thrown down the stairs after her. Umbridge was standing over her, looking utterly satisfied with herself as she told Professor Trelawney she was fired. 

Professor Trelawney was not the only one crying; Harry heard sobs to his left and turned to see Lavender and Parvati. They were both crying silently, arms wrapped around each other. Then he heard fast, deliberate footsteps. Professor McGonagall had marched away from the spectators and was patting Professor Trelawney on the back. 

“There, there, Sibyll,” she said softly, withdrawing a handkerchief from her robes. “Calm down...Blow your nose on this. It’s not as bad as you think, now...You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts…” 

“Oh really, Professor McGonagall?” The deadly sweet tone of Umbridge’s voice sent a shiver of dread down Harry’s spine. “And your authority for that statement is…?” 

“That would be mine,” a deep voice entered the hall. 

Professor Dumbledore arrived, taking away Umbridge’s smile as he used his authority as Headmaster to allow Trelawny to remain living at Hogwarts and to appoint a new Divination teacher before Umbridge could. 

Accompanied by the sound of clattering hooves came a face Harry has seen once before on a dark, dangerous night in the Forbidden Forest: white-blonde hair and astonishingly blue eyes, the head and torso of a man joined to the palomino body of a horse. 

“This is Firenze,” Dumbledore happily told a stunned Umbridge. “I think you’ll find him suitable.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks, as always, to Tree Spiral, the amazing beta reader for this project!
> 
> Also, I made an official Tumblr for this series! I'll post updates there, maybe bits of future chapters if people want, and just generally scream about Hedric! You can find it @hedric-amare


	13. Consequences of Rebellion

**Chapter 13: Consequences of Rebellion**

It was breakfast time Saturday, a few days after the sacking of Professor Trelawney. They had had their first lesson with Firenze the day before in a classroom magically transformed to look like the Forbidden Forest, complete with the night sky. Firenze’s warning, that it appeared Wizard-kind was in nothing but a brief calm between two wars, refused to leave the back of Harry’s thoughts. Logically, Harry knew Voldemort’s return meant nothing good, but to hear the word  _ war  _ attached to it was...unnerving...

Hermione was reading the  _ Daily Prophet _ , scanning the columns. Abruptly she stopped, staring at a particular article with a look of horror. 

“Hermione?” 

Wordlessly, she passed him the paper. 

**_HARRY POTTER’S SOULMATE REVEALED?_ **

The noise of the Great Hall seemed to fall away from Harry, becoming distant and muddled as if he were surrounded by water. He could not seem to pull his eyes away from the paper for a moment, consumed by a need to understand exactly what the damage was. Harry clutched the paper tightly in his hands as he read the column, sure at any moment he was going to be sick. 

Of course the reporter who wrote this article had not seen his actual soulmark, it had been covered for months, but the red cloth was conspicuous enough to attract some attention. They couldn’t confirm for certain who his soulmate was, but it didn’t take much snooping after that to get several anonymous Hogwarts students to reveal Harry had a boyfriend. 

_ “...Former Headboy Cedric Diggory…Hogwarts Triwizard champion...always getting into trouble with Potter...inseparable, really...”  _

It took several moments for Harry’s thought to catch up with processing what he had read. The article didn’t just reveal he had a boyfriend; it specified Cedric by name. Cedric wasn’t just the other boy talking about Voldemort’s return now, he was publicly and closely tied to Harry. 

A horrible thought occurred to Harry then, settling onto his chest with the weight of a physical blow. In the graveyard Voldemort saw his soulmate, saw Cedric’s initials. Earlier in the summer they had believed--hoped--that Cedric was targeted to quiet him from speaking out about Voldemort’s return. If he hadn’t put the name together with the initials before, he certainly had now. The target on Cedric’s back from Voldemort just got bigger. 

_ Well, shit.  _

Slowly, Harry set the paper down on the table, trying to focus on controlling his breathing. He wasn’t having much luck. Distantly, he realized Hermione and Ron were trying to talk to him, but although he heard their words they might have well been in another language for how much he was able to understand. Harry felt his gaze drift to the Hufflepuff table and meet a pair of concerned blue-grey eyes. 

Cedric, always so kind and concerned. Even now he was mustering a smile for Harry’s sake, trying to be reassuring. Other people were whispering, sneaking glances at both of them. Professor McGonagall was looking at Harry with an expression of kindness; Professor Umbridge was looking down with an expression of gloating contempt and disdain. 

His pendant vibrated,  _ “Harry...are you okay?”  _

Harry wanted very much to scream. 

He didn’t; but it was only through force of will he got to his feet and began to march stiffly away from the Gryffindor table, muttering a goodbye to his friends as he did. Harry left the Great Hall, doing his best to hold his head high and pretend the looks hadn’t gotten to him at all. He wasn’t entirely sure where his feet were taking him at first, only that he needed to get away from the weight of their stares. 

The bare stone wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor stared back at him. He hesitated, not knowing what he wanted to ask the room for. Every time before he had a clear objective in summoning the room, a clear need. Now he just needed…

_ I need a place to be safe,  _ he thought silently, walking past the wall,  _ Somewhere they can’t find me...somewhere peaceful… _

Harry opened the door to find the room decorated in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor colors they had gone to after Cedric’s first detention. The large but cozy room hadn’t changed at all, the flames in the fireplace still danced softly as if he had seen them only minutes before. Harry collapsed on the bed, wrapping his arms around himself and struggling to hold back tears. 

It wasn’t the sharp, biting panic he was used to. That came and went, biting in the moment but only a dull pain to carry day to day. This was the weight of the world that had been set upon his shoulders ever since last June and would not leave until Voldemort was gone. 

_ Will I survive to see that day?  _ Harry wondered.  _ More importantly, will Cedric? Will Hermione and Ron? Will Remus and Sirius? Will the Weasleys?  _ A memory of the photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix came to him unbidden. So many ghosts staring out of photographs... _ Who will we lose this time?  _

His pendant buzzed. He ignored it. The vibration increased, incessant, impossible to ignore. Heaving a frustrated sigh, Harry wrapped his hand around the pendant. 

_ “Are you okay? Where are you? I’m worried about you.”  _

* * *

Gavin and James caught up to Cedric just as he made it across the entrance hall, determined to find Harry and stop him thinking this was his fault. A hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks, and he was distantly aware he was shaking slightly, his hand balled into white-knuckled fists at his sides. 

“I have to--” 

“Mate, he needs space,” James said gently. “Give him a bit, then go after him.” 

“He’s not the only one this affects,” Gavin added. “Are you okay, Cedric? Really?” 

“I--”  _ I’M FINE!  _ He wanted to shout, but the words died in his throat before he could find them. And when he spoke, his voice sounded strangely distant, almost foreign to his own ears, as if someone else was talking. “I don’t really know, to be honest.” 

“That’s okay, too.” 

“Want to talk about it?” 

Cedric shook his head, heaving a deep sigh, “No, not really.” 

“You need to talk about it,” James said. “Your privacy has been violated. Soulmates are supposed to be considered personal, sacred even, I can’t believe that rag of a paper would go this far. But they did, and now we’ve got to live with it.” 

“This puts you in more danger--don’t argue, it does, you know that,” Gavin’s hand on his shoulder tightened. “It’s not Harry’s fault in any way, shape, or form, it’s just the horrible fact of reality.” 

Cedric shrugged, “It’s not like there’s much I can do about that now.” 

_ “Hem, hem,”  _ The three of them whirled around to see the horrible, toad-like face of Professor Umbridge, smiling at them sweetly. “It has been brought to my attention, Mr. Diggory, that despite my extensive attempts to dissuade you and Mr. Potter from this degenerate nonsense, you have continued to disturb the student population of Hogwarts. I simply cannot abide this. A hundred points from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor house, and I will expect you in my office Tuesday and Thursday nights at five for detention for the foreseeable future.” She paused, turning to look at James with a look of disappointment. “Mr. Shafiq, I would hope you were finding yourself in more respectable company here at Hogwarts.” 

Cedric realized, belatedly, why Umbridge had not addressed Gavin similarly. It made sense that Umbridge didn’t see him as respectable company--in her eyes he was nothing but a queer and a troublemaker. But Gavin was generally liked by his teachers, he got fantastic grades, and if Cedric hadn’t been the Prefect for their year he felt sure it would have been him. But Gavin was also black, and a halfblood. 

James was the eldest male heir of the Shafiq pureblood family. He also looked ready to punch Umbridge. “I like my present company just fine, Professor Umbridge,” he said flatly. 

“I would watch yourself closely, Mr. Shafiq.” And with that Umbridge was gone. 

“I’m going to go find Harry,” Cedric muttered, turning away. 

* * *

Harry was sure the Room of Requirement had locked the door behind him, but it let his boyfriend through with no resistance. Perhaps the Room understood what Harry needed better than he did--at that moment Harry wasn’t sure he  _ wanted  _ to talk to anyone, even Cedric, but he probably needed too. 

At first Cedric didn’t say anything, just sat down quietly beside him on the bed. Harry kept his back turned to the older boy, positive that his face would give away the pain he was wrestling with in a moment, and terrified of what pain he would find if he looked into Cedric’s gaze. After a moment, unspokenly, they reached to hold on to each other’s hands, fingers interlacing softly. 

Harry moved first, pushing himself upright and turning to meet Cedric’s eyes. There he saw mirrored the same overwhelming concern and stress that clutched his own heart. 

“Voldemort knows now,” he said finally, his voice grim. “He saw my soulmark in the graveyard.” 

Cedric shrugged, “He was going to try to kill me either way, it’s not like I ever would have sat on the sidelines of this war anyways. If I’m going to fight,” his hand tightened around Harry’s, “I’d rather fight by your side than alone.” 

“You’re in danger.” 

“So are you,” Cedric sighed deeply. “Harry, you can’t carry this alone. I can’t--” 

“I know,” Harry said softly, leaning against Cedric’s shoulder. “We’re in this together, for better and for worse. No more secrets.” 

Cedric nodded, smiling tiredly, “Please.” He grimaced. “Umbridge took points and assigned me detentions, I expect she’ll do the same to you.” 

“That was inevitable.” 

“Doesn’t make it right.” 

Harry reached with his hand, gently tangling his fingers in Cedric’s hair. Cedric sighed, leaning into the touch, and Harry pulled him closer. The kiss was infinitely tender yet fueled with an undercurrent of desperation, both of them seeking to record these precious moments before they were gone. The world, the impending war, was swirling around their lives, carrying them along currents they would not be able to fight forever. Arms wrapped around each other, souls intertwined, all they could do was hold on. 

“I have something to show you,” Cedric said finally as they broke apart. Harry raised an eyebrow in confusion and curiosity. A genuine smile twitched at Cedric’s lips and he stood up, drawing his wand. With the sweeping wand movement of the spell he incanted loudly,  _ “Expecto Patronum!”  _

A fountain of light burst forth from Cedric’s wand, taking the form of a large animal. A silvery Elk stood by serenely, watching Cedric passively. It was quite majestic, carrying a wide rack of antlers not that different from...Harry’s stag. 

Harry smiled, getting to his feet beside his boyfriend and drawing his own wand. He thought of Cedric, let the feeling of happiness overwhelm him, and channeled that into his magic.  _ “Expecto Patronum!”  _

His stag patronus appeared and without prompting walked over to the elk. Both Patronuses stared for a long moment, almost reflections but not quite mirror images, similar but entirely different from one another. Then, abruptly, they took off at a run, prancing through the air in a wide circle around the Room of Requirement. It almost looked like they were dancing. 

* * *

The satisfaction Cedric had felt in the aftermath of  _ The Quibbler _ article had long since evaporated. The  _ Daily Prophet  _ article sparked new rounds of gossip around him and Harry, many unpleasant. Umbridge used it to justify more detentions for both of them, deepening the wounds on both of their hands. Cedric was glad he had gone through the process in the fall of acquiring the materials for the D.A. first aid kits, it made treating their hands somewhat easier. It became difficult to schedule D.A. meetings between the detentions and Harry’s Occlumency lessons, though the fact they never had detention together helped. 

Cedric found himself often wanting to publicly stand up to Umbridge, and he always knew he had to hold back. Standing up to her never worked, it made things worse. Perhaps if he was only risking himself...but he wasn’t. So he forced himself to bite his tongue. 

A dull March blurred into a tense April and their lives seemed to be one long series of worries and problems, stringing on into the future forever. An update on Gavin’s mother arrived; she wasn’t getting any better, but at least she wasn’t progressing any worse than the Muggle doctors expected. Umbridge continued to generally make life at Hogwarts miserable, and not just for him and Harry. Cedric was increasingly aware that he was ticking away the days until his N.E.W.T.s and the interview, wishing for all the world he could somehow shove more hours into the day to study. 

He was sitting up in bed one night, reading by the light of a  _ Lumos,  _ struggling to stay awake. 

_ The Life Spark spell was originally created as a counter to the complications that can arise when administering the antidote to the Draught of Living Death (see Page 346 for more information on the Draught). Occasionally the process of drawing someone out of the deep slumber induced by the Draught of Living Death can stop a person’s heart. The Life Spark spell can be used to counter this by creating an artificial heartbeat for several minutes. This spell is also an effective treatment for a variety of sleep related diseases, positions, and curses, namely the Death Sleep curse if administered within a minute of the casting.  _

Cedric rubbed at his eyes, tired and stressed. What if he didn’t even get called into the interview? But this information might be important regardless...might save someone he cared about…

_ The Life Spark spell requires the caster’s undivided focus for a period of several minutes, until the patient’s heartbeat returns to normal (see Page 183 for Diagnostics). This is a risky procedure, until such a moment as the heart begins to beat regularly on his own, survival is not a likely outcome. It is brutal to the patient's body, flooding their body with magical electricity, and requires weeks of bed rest to recover. This depends largely on the strength and focus of the caster, as this spell requires that the caster use large amounts of energy…  _

He was beginning to zone out, drifting over portions of the text blankly. 

_...early 1930s Muggles invented a crude imitation of the Life Spark spell using electricity called Defibulation... _

_...The incantation is “Tribuo Vitae”  _

And, before he knew it, he was asleep. 

Gavin and James were sitting with Cedric, as he struggled to avoid falling into his food from exhaustion, when the owl from the St. Mungo’s Healer apprenticeship program came. Four other Seventh Year students out of the ten who had applied received similar letters. Cedric was almost too scared to open it, but the wide grin that split his face as he read his invitation for an interview at the end of term was wholly genuine. His friends laughed as they congratulated him, pointing out that he’d been stressing for nothing. 

Harry seemed to live for the D.A. Planning and teaching the defense lessons gave them both something productive to focus their energy on. There were mountains around them they could not destroy, enemies they could not attack, but this was at least a way to fight back. Cedric imagined Umbridge would be surprised when the members of the D.A. scored Outstandings on their Defense O.W.L.s. and N.E.W.T.s. 

They had finally started work on Patronuses, which everybody had been very keen to practice, though Harry kept reminding them that producing one in the brightly lit Room of Requirement would be very different from actually facing a dementor. Cedric was glad he had worked with Harry on the Patronus early, now he was better able to help teach the others. 

“You’ve got to really focus,” he told Gavin, who had only managed to produce non corporeal silver mist. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Gavin growled in frustration, running his hand through his curly hair. “How can you focus on a memory like that?” 

“Don’t focus on the memory itself, maybe,” Cedric suggested. “It’s not necessarily the memory itself that matters, it's the emotions you put into it. The Patronus charm is fueled more by your intent then the actual incantation or wand movement. The happiness you put into it works as a shield between you and the dementors.” 

“Hmph.” Gavin still looked a bit confused and frustrated. Gavin was an analytical person--extremely intelligent--but the Charms propelled more by intent than form seemed to always challenge him. 

James, whose Patronus had taken the form of a sea turtle, turned to Cedric with a look of curiosity. “Say, Cedric,” he said, walking over to them, “What do you think about when you conjure your elk?” 

“Uh,” Cedric smiled as he realized the answer, “Harry. I think about Harry.” 

James chuckled, “Of course you do.” 

“You two are ridiculously adorable, you know that right?” Gavin said, grinning widely. 

“Oh shut up,” Cedric smiled. “Give it another go Gav.” 

Just as Gavin was preparing to cast again the door of the Room of Requirement opened and then closed again; Cedric looked to see who had entered but did not immediately see anyone. A few moments later he saw Dobby--his eyes wide with terror--tugging on Harry’s robes. Something was clearly wrong. 

“Dobby has come to warn you…” the elf squeaked as Cedric walked over, his voice watery, “but the house-elves have been warned not to tell…” 

Dobby whirled around and ran headfirst at the wall. Cedric reacted just in time to seize hold of his wrist and keep him from hurting himself. 

“What’s happened, Dobby?” Harry asked, crouching down beside them to be on eye level with the elf. 

“Harry Potter...she...she…” 

Dobby hit himself hard on the nose with his free fist: Harry grabbed on to that, further restraining him. 

“Who’s ‘she’ Dobby?” 

But Cedric knew, with certain dread, that only one “she” would elicit this fear from the elf. Dobby looked up at them, slightly cross-eyed, and clearly close to tears. 

“Umbridge?” Cedric’s voice sounded strangely flat and distant to his own ears. 

Dobby nodded, then tried to bang his head off Harry’s knees; Harry held him at bay. 

“What about her? Dobby, has she found out about this--about us--about the D.A.?” 

The answer was clear in the elf’s stricken face. 

“Is she coming?” Cedric asked quietly. 

Dobby let out a howl and fell to the floor, sobbing, “Yes!” 

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!” Harry bellowed, straightening up and looking around at the motionless, terrified people. “RUN!” 

They all pelted toward the exit at once, choking up at the door then bursting through. Cedric could hear them sprinting along the corridors and hoped they had the sense not to all try and make it to their dormitories. It was only ten to nine, if they just took refuge in the Owlery or the library, which were both nearer…

“Harry, Cedric, come on!” Hermione shrieked from the center of the knot of people now fighting to get out. 

Harry scooped up Dobby, who was still attempting to do himself bodily harm, as they ran to join the back of the queue. Cedric could here him instructing the elf to flee to the kitchens, lie about warning them, and stop hurting himself. 

Cedric turned to him just as they were reaching the door, momentarily hesitating, lost and uncertain. 

“We need to split up!” Harry shouted. 

“Be careful!”

Cedric pulled him close as they burst through the door, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then took off at a run. The others were all moving so fast he barely caught glimpses as they vanished around the corners of the corridors, scattering into the castle. Cedric ran like he was pursued by the hounds of hell, his heart pounding a frantic tempo in his temples, if he could just reach the library…

Quite suddenly, the pendant resting against the skin of his chest flared with heat. Normally the vibration it emitted was soft, barely noticeable--now it was impossible to ignore. Cedric slipped into the shadows of an alcove to catch his breath. He pulled on the chain of the pendant, wrapping it in a trembling hand and letting its magic flow through him. 

_ “Malfoy caught me,”  _ Harry’s voice spoke flatly, as clearly heard as if he was standing right beside Cedric.  _ “Students helping search, look out. Umbridge is taking me to the Headmaster’s office. Don’t come after me, get to safety. Love you.”  _

As the message drew to a close the warmth and vibration faded from the pendent, leaving it feeling strangely cold in Cedric’s hand. He was shaking with anger, wanting nothing more to march up to the Headmaster’s office and hex Umbridge--and Malfoy--into oblivion. That, he was aware, would be hardly productive, but it would make up significantly for the past months of frustration. 

With a sinking dread he felt his thoughts wander to the paper back in the Room of Requirement. “Dumbledore’s Army,” it foolishly proclaimed, followed by a list that could be used to implicate all of them.  _ Oh, Merlin, Kayla’s on that list! _

Only the people on that list knew of the meeting place…Someone on that list betrayed them. 

Cedric ran his fingers through his hair violently, pacing back and forth in the alcove, growling in frustration. Everything had fallen apart. They’d been so careful too, Cedric had even thought to prepare First Aid to keep everyone safe. What they were doing was something real, something important. And someone they trusted had thrown that all out of the window. 

Would they expel them all? Could Umbridge do that? Surely they couldn’t...Cedric couldn’t be stopped from going to the Healer Apprenticeship interview, could he? St. Mungo’s had already approved his application…

And Harry was facing the consequences for this right now. Cedric knew, and cursed as he did, that Harry would try to take on the majority of the blame as the leader. He could only hope Dumbledore would be able to protect him. 

Cedric felt strangely bereft as he realized this meant the end of the D.A, almost as if someone had died. The D.A. had been a refuge, for everyone, a place to come together and channel all anxiety and fear about the state of the world into something good, something productive. It was easier to get up knowing you were doing something to fight back. And now that was gone. 

_ Keep moving.  _ A small voice in his head told him firmly.  _ Escape first, worry later.  _

Resigned, Cedric took off at a run. 

* * *

**BY ORDER OF**

**THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

**Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

* * *

Cedric caught up to Harry just before breakfast. Pulled aside to a more secluded spot, hidden behind several layers of privacy spells, Harry explained as quickly as possible what had happened with Umbridge, Fudge, and Dumbledore. Predictably, Cedric was a bit annoyed Harry had tried to take the blame on himself. 

“Cedric,” Harry said tiredly, looking at his boyfriend seriously, “You can’t honestly tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.” 

“Well yes but…” Cedric trailed off, then sighed deeply. “I’m just glad she didn’t hurt you.” 

“Not like she doesn’t have lots of time left to do that,” Harry muttered darkly. 

_ Surely things can’t get much worse then they were?  _

Cedric grimaced, “Harry…” 

“Cedric,” Harry said softly, leaning against him and interlacing their fingers. 

“Be careful,” Cedric pressed a kiss to Harry’s lips. 

“You too,” Harry whispered sadly. 

_ What has Hogwarts come to? Is there anywhere safe left in the world?  _

Moments later they broke apart, walking back to the Great Hall separated from each other by a forced distance. As Harry was walking to class with Ron and Hermione they were stopped by Malfoy, who had been appointed to something called The Inquisitorial Squad, and now had the ability to take house points. Ron was ready to hurt Malfoy when he called Hermione a  _ Mudblood  _ and Harry a  _ Fag _ , but Harry and Hermione managed to hold him back. 

No matter where Harry went within the castle the next day the sole topic of conversation was Dumbledore’s flight. Though some of the information had been lost in retelling, what people were saying was surprisingly accurate. Harry found himself besieged with questions wherever he went; it was widely known he and Marietta--who was held up in the Hospital Wing--had been the only witnesses. 

After lunch they ran into Fred and George, who had apparently tossed Montague into a vanishing cabinet to prevent him from taking points as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad. Hermione looked very shocked and lectured them on the terrible trouble they would get into; the twins were completely unfazed. 

“Anyways,” Fred said coolly, “We’ve decided we don’t care about getting into trouble anymore.” 

“The consequences of rebellion no longer faze us,” George added. 

“Have they ever?” Hermione asked. 

“ ‘Course they have,” George said. “Never been expelled, have we?” 

“We’ve always known where to draw the line,” Fred said. 

“We might have put a toe across it occasionally.” 

“But we’ve always stopped short of causing real mayhem.” 

“But now?” Ron said tentatively. 

“Well now--” George said. 

“--what with Dumbledore gone--” 

“--we reckon a bit of mayhem--” 

“--is exactly what out dear new Head deserves.” 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way to the Great Hall then, but they had not yet reached the doors before Filch stopped them. 

“The Headmistress would like to see you, Potter,” he leered. 

“I didn’t do it,” Harry said stupidly, worrying about Phase I of whatever Fred and George were planning. 

“Guilty conscious, eh?” Filch wheezed, “Follow me…” 

Umbridge’s office, familiar to Harry from so many long detentions--he hoped she had not summoned him here to write more lines--was unchanged except for the large wooden plaque lying across her desk, proclaiming her HEADMISTRESS. Disconcertingly, she did not lecture or punish him...she insisted he sit down and share a cup of tea with her. 

Harry raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. It had just occurred to him what Mad-Eye Moody would say if he ever heard Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy. 

_ “Constant vigilance!”  _ Mood would shout.  _ “Would you have drank tea with a Death Eater?”  _

So Harry only pretended to drink it, and moments later he was grateful for his caution. Umbridge asked him where Dumbledore was, he said he didn’t know, and then she asked him where Sirius was, and he again said he didn’t know. Umbridge looked angry but didn’t press. 

Looking down at the tea--which was a disconcerting shade of off-pink--Harry felt he might be sick. What if there was Veritaserum in that cup, and what if he had drunken it? He could have cost Dumbledore and his godfather their freedom. 

“...Mr. Filch is observing all secret passages in and out of the castle. If I find a shred of evidence…” 

_ BOOM!  _

“Back to lunch with you, Potter!” Umbridge cried, raising her wand and hurtling out of the office. 

It was pandemonium. Dragons comprised entirely of green and gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud, fiery bangs and blasts as they did. Wheels of pink sparks were whizzing past like flying saucers; rockets were ricocheting off the walls; sparklers were writing swear words in the air of their own accord. Far from burning out, the fireworks appeared for all the world to be gaining power even as Harry watched. 

It was absolutely hilarious. Umbridge spent her first day as Headmistress running around the school like a chicken with its head cut off, answering the summonses of teachers who apparently could not rid their rooms of the sparks. 

“Thank you so much, Professor!” Professor Flitwick said, his squeaky voice overly cheerful. “I could have got rid of the sparkles myself, of course, but I wasn’t sure whether I had the  _ authority… _ ” 

Fred and George were hailed as heroes. 

_ You underestimate Hogwarts, Umbridge,  _ Harry thought privately to himself.  _ We won’t stop fighting back.  _ Even Hermione commented she was feeling unusually rebellious. 

Harry’s good mood did not last as he fell asleep. Once again his dreams inevitably ended up back in the Department of Mysteries. The black door at the end of the windowless opened, and then a door past it, and there were rows upon rows of towering shelves, holding countless, dusty, small glass spheres. He was running, his heart pounding in his ears. There was something he wanted…

When he woke, his scar was throbbing with pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to the beta for this work, Tree Spiral!


	14. Of Teenagers, The Past, And The Future

**Chapter 14: Of Teenagers, The Past, And The Future**

Harry spent the whole of the next day dreading what Snape was going to say if he found out how much farther into the Department of Mysteries he had penetrated during his last dream. With a surge of guilt he realized he had not practiced Occlumency once since their last lesson. Ever since Dumbledore had left there had been so much going on--he had let himself become distracted. He doubted he could clear his mind at that point if he even tried. 

He attempted a little last minute practice during classes that day, but it was no good, Hermione kept asking him what was wrong and in the middle of review questions wasn’t exactly the best time to empty himself of emotion to begin with. By the time he descended the stairs to Snape’s dungeon his anxiety was churning with frustration and confusing anger, leaving him feeling like he might be sick at any minute. 

Snape was as unpleasant as ever. When Malfoy, with a message from Umbridge calling Snape away, Snape told Harry they would have to continue the lesson the following day instead. Of course Malfoy had to be told the cover story for why Harry was there. 

“ _ Remedial potions?”  _ Malfoy mouthed at Harry behind Snape’s back as he swept from the room, smirking. 

Seething, Harry replaced his wand inside his robes and made to leave the room. At least he had more time to practice before Snape invaded his mind again, though it came at the expense of giving Malfoy more material to tease him about. 

Not that Malfoy needed help in that department. When the list of students going to the Healer Apprenticeship interviews at St. Mungo’s--an incredibly prestigious career path--was posted the week before Malfoy had taken notice that Cedric was on the list and mocked him for it.  _ “A job for poofters and fairies,”  _ he’d called it. Cedric had had to physically restrain Harry from punching him. 

He felt rather like he was close to losing it, to snapping entirely. It was getting harder and harder to ignore Malfoy, on top of everything else it was just too much…

Harry was at the office door when he saw it: a patch of shivering light dancing on the door frame. He stopped, looking at it, reminded of something...Then he remembered; it was a little like the light he had seen in his dream last night, the lights in the second room he had walked through on his journey to the Department of Mysteries. 

He turned around. The light was coming from the Pensieve sitting on Snape’s desk; the silver white contents were ebbing and swirling within. Snape’s memories...things he did not want Harry to see if he broke through Snape’s defenses accidentally…

Could it possibly be information about the Department of Mysteries that Snape was determined to keep from him? That Dumbledore was determined to keep from him? 

_ You know why they have to keep it from you... _ a quiet voice whispered. 

It would be insane to do the thing that he was so strongly tempted to do...Snape could be back at any moment...but Harry thought of Malfoy’s jeering face, of Umbridge’s satisfied smirk, and a reckless daring seized him. 

He took a great gulp of breath and plunged his face into the surface of Snape’s thoughts. At once, the floor of the office lurched, tipping Harry headfirst into the Pensieve...He was falling through cold blackness, spinning furiously as he went...

* * *

If Harry could, he would have gone back in time and stopped himself from looking at that memory of Snape’s. Lacking the ability to do that, he resolved privately to himself to try and forget it. That wasn’t going especially well, and of course the real damage had already been done. 

It was the first day of the Easter holidays and Hermione, as was her custom, has spent a large part of the day drawing up study schedules for the three of them. This year, despite his massive workload, Cedric had even helped her. Harry, who had been following a study schedule written by Hermione and Cedric since the beginning of the year, was honestly grateful for it at this point. Ron, however, had been startled to discover that there were only six weeks left until their exams. 

Now Harry, Hermione, Ron, Cedric, and James were holed up in the library studying for their various exams and interviews. James was on his way to becoming an Auror, and seemed even more stressed than Cedric when he had been finishing his application to get an interview. Apparently James had a lot on his shoulders too, his grandparents expected a lot out of him. 

Harry’s headache was killing him. It pounded in his temples, throbbing with white-hot pain. An hour wore on...then two...Harry was nearing the end of a Transfiguration essay when James left to meet up with Gavin. Cedric insisted on staying, telling James he had more work to do. Harry's suspicions, that Cedric simply wanted to talk to them, turned out to be correct. 

Hermione frowned, “But why haven’t you got Occlumency lessons anymore?” 

“I  _ told _ you,” Harry muttered, trying to stretch his neck and relieve some of the tension, “Snape reckons I can carry on by myself now I’ve got the basics…” 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Cedric commented. 

“Have you stopped having funny dreams?” Hermione said skeptically. 

“Pretty much,” Harry said, not looking at either of them. 

“Well, I don’t think Snape should stop until you’re absolutely sure you can control them!” Hermione said indignantly. “Harry, I think you should go back to him and ask--” 

“No,” Harry said flatly. 

“Harry,” Cedric looked at him quizzically, “This is important--you’ve said as much yourself.” 

“I know!” Harry snapped. A moment later he regretted his tone, he knew they were just trying to help. Looking at their expressions, concern mixed with a tinge of hurt, was unbearable. Suddenly the library felt incredibly claustrophobic, he wasn’t sure he could survive another moment. 

“Harry?” Cedric asked, his voice softer. 

Harry flinched away from the hand on his shoulder. Grunting, he slammed the book open on the table in front of him closed and shoved his things into his bag. “I’ll see you all later,” he muttered, standing to leave. 

Cedric's hand found his, stopping him, “Harry,” his voice was laced with concern, “What’s wrong?” 

A fragment of the horrible memory Harry had witnessed flashed through his mind; with it came a wave of emotion and nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. 

“Nothing is wrong!” 

“Clearly,” Hermione raised an eyebrow. 

“I just need some space.”

Harry pulled away, striding out of the library as fast as his feet would take him. Distantly, he heard Hermione telling Cedric to let him go, to give him some space, and he...wasn’t sure if he was grateful for it. On one level he did want space, but on another he wanted to fall apart in Cedric’s arms. 

He seemed to do that a lot. 

Harry felt as though the memory of it was eating him from the inside out like acid. He had been so sure that his parents had been wonderful people that he never had the slightest difficulty in disbelieving Snape’s aspersions on his father’s character. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look Sirius in the eye--or Remus for that matter. What the bloody hell was that? McGonagall had once described the Marauder as troublemakers like Fred and George--but he couldn’t imagine the twins ever dangling someone upside down for the fun of it...not unless they really loathed them...or somebody who really deserved it…

Harry tried to make a case for Snape having deserved what he had suffered at James’ hands. Any argument seemed to slip through his fingers like smoke or water, barely holding for a moment. Distantly he remembered Remus saying Dumbledore had made him Prefect so that he would be able to exercise some control over James and Sirius...But in that moment, he had sat there and let it all happen. 

He had never felt so ashamed. His father and the men who were like fathers to him had been bullies. That was the plain, sickening truth. If he was really living in their legacy...what did that say for him? All those times he had wondered if his father would be proud of him...he had looked to James Potter as a source of inspiration and comfort for five years. And now...

He couldn’t run away from it, no matter how fast his feet did try. 

It almost seemed inevitable he ended up at the Room of Requirement. He hadn’t been back here since the D. A. was found out, but it was still a relatively good hiding place. Umbridge wasn’t likely to randomly look for him there...though if Cedric was looking for him, he would eventually find Harry. When he entered it, channeling his confused emotions into his need for a place to unwind, he expected the room draped in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor colors to appear. It didn’t. 

The room that appeared was rather like the D. A. room without the library shelves and pillows. It had ample space to move about, and a practice dummy to hit. And hit it Harry did, repeatedly. Hard. 

* * *

Cedric began to worry when Harry did not show up to join them on the walk to lunch and went to look for him when Hermione and Ron reported he was not in Gryffindor Tower. He found him in the Room of Requirement. 

Harry was breathing heavily as if he had been dueling--from the look of the dummies scattered around the room in various states of dissemination he basically had. He was trembling, his wand--which he had pointed at Cedric’s chest, startled--was shaking. Slowly, as Cedric held his empty hands up and didn’t move, Harry lowered his wand. 

There were tears streaked down his face. 

_ Merlin Harry, what happened?  _

“Harry…” Cedric took a tentative step forward, then another, until he was close enough to wrap his boyfriend in his arms. Harry seemed to deflate, melting into the embrace with a sigh of exhaustion. He didn’t sob or cry, just stood in aching silence. The tremors slowly subsided. 

“Cedric,” Harry said, his voice muffled against Cedric’s chest, “I don’t...I’m sorry…” 

“Shh, love,” Cedric said softly, resting his forehead against Harry’s. “What happened?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Cedric frowned, “Harry secrets between us do more harm than good.” 

“I know...I just...I don’t even…” Harry sighed, “I don’t even know where to begin.” 

“Hmm,” Cedric thought for a moment, reaching a decision, “We need a visit to the kitchens.” 

“Hot cocoa at what...is it noon?” 

“I mean I wouldn’t judge--House Elf cocoa is good enough to drink at all hours--but you need lunch, Harry,” Cedric smiled as Harry’s stomach growled, negating any argument the younger boy might have made that he wasn’t hungry. “C’mon,” Cedric looped an arm around Harry’s shoulders. 

Halfway through his chicken sandwich, Harry started talking, and it was as if once he began, floodgates that could not be closed had been opened. Cedric’s initial confusion as Harry described the memory from Snape’s schooldays he had seen faded...replaced by a horrible aching in his chest as Harry began to tremble. 

Harry did not care that he had been shouted at, or that things had been thrown at him, in his words,  _ “I’m used to that.”  _ Not for the first time and probably not for the last, Cedric wanted to march off the Hogwarts grounds, Apparate to Little Whinging, and do a variety of unpleasant things to a certain Muggle family. 

What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was that he knew exactly how it felt to be humiliated. He knew exactly what it felt like to be in the middle of a circle of onlookers, helpless, knew exactly what Snape had felt as his father had taunted him. Cedric felt his heart breaking for Harry all over again, further deepening the ocean that was his resolve to protect his soulmate. 

“I wish I could talk to Sirius,” Harry muttered. “But I know I can’t.” 

Cedric frowned, something occurring to him, “Didn’t Sirius give you something to contact him?” 

“Well yeah,” Harry scowled, “but he said Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t approve. What if it isn't safe? What if it’s just like...extra floo powder or something?” 

Cedric bit his lip, considering. On one hand Harry’s godfather didn’t seem to have the best judgement of what was best for his own safety, and Harry would blame himself if anything happened. But this was eating at Harry...and eventually he would probably be driven to contact Sirius either way. Hopefully this would be safer than whatever the alternatives were? 

“We don’t have to use it,” Cedric offered. “Just because you open it to figure out what it is doesn’t require us to use it.” 

“Oh…” Harry nodded. “I’ll unwrap it later tonight.” 

* * *

_ This is a two-way mirror. I’ve got the other. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you’ll appear in my mirror and I’ll be able to talk in yours. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions.  _

Before he knew what was happening, a bubbling, cackling stream of laughter was escaping him. It was unstoppable, it took him several minutes to get himself under control. If his dormmates were still around, they might have thought he finally cracked. All his anxiety washed away about contacting Sirius in a moment, leaving Harry feeling bizarrely light. 

It was so bloody simple! Sirius had described it horribly, like it was a last end resort for emergencies, not something that could be used for general communication. Of course Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t approve of something that had been invented for them to talk to each other in detention, but it was practically perfect for this! 

_ Bloody idiot... _ He thought fondly of his godfather, a smile twitching at his lips. 

Just as he was about to raise the mirror to his face and speak his godfather’s name, Harry hesitated, everything he wanted to talk about washing over him all at once. Where to even begin? But it was best not to delay the inevitable. 

“Sirius Black.” 

The mirror grew blurred and shadowed, eventually revealing a dim room in Grimmauld Place as if Harry was peering through a window of glass. Sirius appeared within a moment in the frame, looking urgently concerned, “What is it? Are you alright? Do you need help?” 

“No,” Harry said softly, “it’s nothing like that. By the way, you made this sound like a form of emergency contact only.” 

Sirius blinked, then chuckled, “Er, right. Sorry about that Harry. I guess that explains why you didn’t contact me sooner. Moony told me worrying would only make me sick...but I worried…” 

“He’s been wearing holes in the floor pacing,” Remus muttered, appearing beside Sirius in the mirror. “How are you, Harry?” 

“Uh…” Harry grimaced, swallowing back the turmoil of the past weeks. “Fine. I’m fine. I just wanted to talk...about my dad actually…” 

They exchanged a look of great surprise. Harry forged onwards, words pouring out of him. Talking through it with Cedric had helped, somewhat, but the emotions that had been tearing him apart still sent tremors to his hands. 

When he had finished, neither Sirius nor Remus spoke for a moment. Then Remus said quietly, “I wouldn’t like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen--” 

“I’m fifteen!” 

“Look, Harry,” Sirius said, his voice almost pleading. He was talking then, words Harry could only hear distantly about how James and Snape were rivals and always hated each other. “...James--whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry--always hated the Dark Arts.” 

“Yeah,” Harry said shortly, “but he attacked Snape for no good reason…” 

“We were idiots, Harry,” Remus said softly. “Even me.” 

“And sometimes arrogant little berks,” Sirius admitted, “not Moony so much.” 

“Look, Harry,” Remus sighed, “For your age, you’re really mature.” 

_ Yeah, I’ve never had a choice... _ Harry thought darkly to himself. 

“We weren’t.” Sirius stated flatly, “We had our moments in school, certainly. But I’m not proud of a lot of what we did. I am, however, proud of the man your father became. Your father was the best friend ever had, and he--both of your parents were really good people. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen.” 

“We grew up,” Remus said softly. “Don’t let that be how you remember James, Harry. You are the best of him and Lily, and something uniquely...you that goes far beyond them.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Harry said heavily. “I just never thought I’d feel sorry for Snape.” 

“Now you mention it,” Remus said, a faint crease between his eyebrows, “how did Snape react when he found you’d seen all this?” 

“He told me he’d never teach me Occlumency again,” Harry said indifferently, “like that’s a big disappointment--” 

“He WHAT?” Sirius shouted, startling Harry. 

“Are you serious Harry?” Remus said quickly. 

“--but Cedric’s already convinced me to try and say something. I know Occlumency is important.” Harry finished, grimacing. 

_ Not that I’m particularly optimistic about the chances of  _ that _ working out... _

“I’m coming up there to have a word with Snape!” Sirius said, actually moving to stand before Remus wrenched him back with a scowl. 

“No, you’re not!” Harry scowled. “I’ll...I’ll try to say something to him.” 

“This is important.” 

“I know,” Harry yawned.

“Harry, you look exhausted,” Sirius said, his voice softening to concern. 

_ Since when am I not exhausted these days? _

“Yeah,” Harry muttered. “I am. Nightmares...visions…” 

“Clear you head,” Remus suggested, “And get some sleep. Goodnight Harry.” 

“Goodnight Harry.” 

“Goodnight Sirius, Remus,” Harry said, biting back another yawn. Another moment passed and the mirror went dark, leaving him alone with his thoughts--which were hardly clear. 

* * *

The first week of Summer term Fifth Year students had meetings with their Heads of Houses to discuss their potential future career plans. Harry arrived at his meeting with Professor McGonagall three minutes late, and might have missed it entirely if Cedric had not found him where he fell asleep. 

His nightmares had hardly been getting better, despite his efforts to clear his mind. 

Cedric and Hermione reminded him--nagged him, really--about his promise to talk to Snape. Harry kept putting it off, dreading the inevitable confrontation that would result in. Snape had been particularly vicious in Potions class, it was downright terrifying to think how he might be if Harry brought the lessons up. On top of everything else...Harry really didn’t have the energy for that. 

Nor was he entirely sure what he was going to tell McGonagall. 

To Harry’s disgust, Umbridge was also present; all he could do was sit down with his back to her and try to pretend he could not hear the scratching of her quill on her clipboard. It was terribly distracting. 

“Well,” Harry mumbled, thinking of the suggestion Cedric had thrown out at one point, “I thought of, maybe, being an Auror.” 

“You’d need top grades for that,” Professor McGonagall extracted a dark leaflet from under the mass on her desk and opened it. “They ask for a minimum of five N.E.W.T.s. And nothing under ‘Exceeds Expectations’ grade. Then you would be required to undergo a stringent series of character and aptitude tests at the Auror office. It’s a difficult career path, Potter. You’ll want to know what subjects you ought to take, I suppose?”

Throughout this Umbridge made several pointed coughs, which McGonagall and Harry resolutely ignored. 

“Yes," Harry said. “Defense Against the Dark Arts, I Suppose?” 

“Naturally,” Professor McGonagall said crisply. “I--” 

_ “Hem, Hem.”  _

“May I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?” Professor McGonagall asked curtly, not looking at Professor Umbridge. 

“Oh no, thank you very much,” Professor Umbridge said with the simpering laugh Harry absolutely loathed. “I just wondered whether I could make the teeniest interruption, Minerva?” 

“I daresay you’ll find you can.” McGonagall was speaking through gritted teeth. 

“I was just wondering whether Mr. Potter has  _ quite  _ the temperament for an Auror?” Professor Umbridge said sweetly. “They’re hardly looking for troublemakers and... _ queers _ .” She spoke the word as if it left a dirty taste in her mouth. 

Something rather like a firestorm flashed in Professor McGonagall’s eyes. For a very tense moment she was silent, and then she spoke with the weight of mountains behind the intent in her words. “Forty years ago my late wife was accepted into the Auror program. She had a very successful career. Mr. Potter reminds me of her, and if you wouldn’t mind, Dolores, I’d like to help my student discuss his options.” 

Harry stared at his Head of House, shocked. His perception of the witch before him was reeling, spinning out of control. Professor McGonagall was sitting impassively, her face stonily neutral, as if there was nothing extraordinary about the words she had spoken. 

The room held its breath. Umbridge appeared to be, for once, speechless. 

Seemingly satisfied that she would not be interrupted again, Professor McGonagall continued onwards, discussing the subjects he needed to work on. Several minutes in, the irritating scratching of the quill returned. Cedric’s tutoring and guidance had helped him this year, but Harry paid attention--not only had he just gained an immense amount of respect for her, he wouldn’t have Cedric next year. At least, not as close. 

He needed to work harder in Transfiguration, and there was the issue of Potions. Professor Snape would only take students who received an O on the O.W.L.s for his N.E.W.T class. Cedric was somewhat of a whiz with Potions--he needed to be for the Healer Apprenticeship--and his help had drastically improved Harry’s chances. It wasn’t going to be easy though. 

Professor McGonagall went on; his Charms work was satisfactory, and his Defense Against The Dark Arts marks were generally high--particularly in Professor Lupin’s class. It was here Umbridge finally found her voice and interrupted again. 

_ “Hem, hem,”  _ Umbridge simpered. Professor McGonagall turned to her, dead silent, and forced a smile concocted of pure hatred onto her face. “I was just concerned that you might not have Harry’s most recent Defense Against the Dark Arts marks in front of you. I’m quite sure I slipped in a note…”

“This thing?” McGonagall said in a tone of pure revulsion, sparing a glance towards a piece of paper. Without comment she deliberately folded it and placed it back into the folder without comment. “Yes, as I was saying, Professor Lupin though you showed a pronounced aptitude for the subject--” 

“Did you not understand my note, Minerva?” 

“Of course I understood it.” 

“Well, then, I am confused...I’m afraid I don’t quite understand how you can give Mr. Potter false hope that--”

“False hope? He has achieved high marks in all his Defense Against the Dark Arts tests--” 

“I’m terribly sorry to have to contradict you, Minerva, but as you will see from my note, Harry has been achieving very poor results in his classes with me--” 

“I should have made my meaning plainer,” Professor McGonagall turned, again looking Umbridge in the eyes with her steely gaze. “He has achieved high marks in all Defense Against the Dark Arts tests set by a competent teacher.” 

From that point, though Harry did not believe it possible, the tension in the room escalated. Umbridge insisted due to Harry’s criminal record, he would never be hired, McGonagall reminded her he was cleared of all charges. Umbridge stood up, her simpering demeanor giving place to a hard fury that made her look utterly sinister. 

When McGonagall stood up, fiery rage flashing in her gaze, it had a much more dramatic effect. McGonagall then insisted that she would personally make sure Harry became an Auror, if it was the last thing she did. By that point, Umbridge was just shrieking and raving. 

“Watch yourself, Minerva,” she spat, tucking her clipboard under her arm. “All my staff are under evaluation.” Umbridge spun on her heel, leaving Harry and McGonagall sitting alone, McGonagall still on her feet. 

“Professor…?” Harry said, his voice wary. 

Professor McGonagall sighed, sitting down heavily and suddenly looking much older, “Mr. Potter...that...concludes our career consultation.” 

“Er, right,” Harry said, awkwardly gathering his things, 

“Mr. Potter--” Professor hesitated just as he was leaving. 

Harry turned, startled, “Professor?” 

Professor McGonagall looked at him, her gaze softer than he had imagined possible. “You really do remind me of her. She was a strong witch, a Gryffindor through and through. Fiercely protective of...all those needing protecting. As you plan for your future...you  _ would  _ make a good Auror, Potter.” 

Harry stared at her, shocked all over again. “Uh, thanks,” he managed awkwardly. “Er, Professor, was it really wise to tell Umbridge that? I mean she’s…”  _ Disgustingly homophobic,  _ he finished silently. 

“Frankly, Mr. Potter, she was going to try to go after me either way. Sometimes, when we face a battle we cannot win, how we choose to face that battle becomes a matter of pride.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, as always, to Tree Spiral!
> 
> Also, I've always believed McGonagall to be a badass lesbian and there's nothing in what I consider canon (the original seven books) to suggest that's not true.


	15. A Lot Of Things That Should Be Different

**Chapter 15: A Lot Of Things That Should Be Different**

“So!” Umbridge said triumphantly, looking down upon her prey. “So...you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?” 

“Pretty amusing, yeah,” Fred said, looking back at her deadpan. 

_ It’s hilarious,  _ Harry thought, grinning to himself. 

“You two,” she spat vindictively, gazing down at Fred and George, “are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school.” 

“You know what?” Fred said. “I don’t think we are.” He turned to his twin, “George, I think we’ve outgrown full-time education,” 

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way myself,” George said lightly. 

“Time to test our talents in the real world, d’you reckon?” Fred asked. 

And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together,  _ “Accio brooms! _ ” 

Fred and George flew out to the sound of cacophonous applause. The story of their flight to freedom was told and retold so often over the next few days Harry was certain it had been cemented as Hogwarts legend. Not only were Fred and George not likely to soon be forgotten--the swamp was left with no cleanup instructions--they had inspired the student body to fight back. 

Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch the troublemakers, but there were now so many that he did not know which way to turn. Outside of the old caretaker, Umbridge didn’t seem to have a single member of the staff on her side or lifting a finger to help. 

Harry was in Charms one day when Ron raised his concern that his mother would be angry at him for not stopping the twins. This turned to speculation about how the twins had found the money to afford a place in Diagon Alley, and quickly revealed the truth of the donation he and Cedric had made. 

Hermione stared at him in stunned surprise, “Oh, Harry, you didn’t! And Cedric? Surely he wouldn’t!” 

“Yes, we did,” Harry said firmly. “And I don’t regret it either. Neither of us needed the gold and they’ll be great at a joke shop…” 

Once they had exhausted the subject of Fred and George’s dramatic departure, which had carried through their conversations until that evening in the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Hermione had wanted to hear news of Sirius. As Harry had not yet found the words to confide in them the reasons he had needed to talk to Sirius, it had been hard to think of things to tell them. After describing the mirrors, which they thought were brilliant, he had admitted saying to them, truthfully, that Sirius wanted him to resume Occlumency lessons. The subject of his dreams got up, and Harry felt frustration tightening in his chest. 

“You are  _ trying _ to block your mind, aren’t you?” 

“Of course I am,” Harry snapped. 

_ It’s not exactly easy right now, Hermione! There’s kind of always a lot going on… _

“You know,” Ron said after a tense moment, “if Montague doesn’t recover before Slytherin plays Hufflepuff, we might be in with a chance of winning.” 

“Yeah, I s’pose so,” Harry muttered, sighing. “Cedric should still be team captain.” 

“There are a lot of things that should be,” Hermione said plainly, “You and Cedric should be playing Quidditch. You-Know-Who should be dead. Umbridge should never have been put in charge of children. We should all be safe. Doesn’t change anything.” 

“Well,” Ron muttered, closing his Potions text. “Someone’s feeling optimistic.” 

“And there are a lot of things left to be grateful for,” Harry said quietly, fingers brushing against the red fabric wrapped around his left wrist. 

* * *

The final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was to take place on the last weekend of May. Although Hufflepuff in their last match had scratched out a narrow win--Cedric was close to shouting at Smith for several horrible decisions--Gryffindor was not daring to hope for victory. This was due mainly to Ron’s abysmal goalkeeping, though no one said it out loud. 

Cedric tried to be encouraging along with Harry and Hermione. If he wasn’t going to be cheering for Hufflepuff, he was cheering for Gryffindor without a doubt, even with Cho on the opposing team. Ron, however, seemed to have found a new optimism; if he couldn’t get worse, there was nothing to lose. At least this seemed to put him at ease. 

The day of the match dawned clear and fine, perfect conditions. Harry, Hermione, and Cedric found seats in the topmost row of stands. The Slytherins, predictably, were singing  _ Weasley Is Our King _ , mocking Ron. Hidden in the relative privacy of being bodies in a crowd, Cedric found Harry’s hand and interlaced their fingers tightly. They were both missing being on the pitch. 

They never did see the conclusion of the match in person though, halfway through Hagrid came to find them. He was bent double as though anxious not to be seen, though he was still at least four feet taller than everybody else. He didn’t look good; his noose was gently dripping blood, his eyes were both blackened, and he looked utterly woebegone.

“Listen,” he whispered, “can yeh come with me? Now? While ev’ryone’s watchin’ the match?” 

“Er...can’t it wait, Hagrid,” Harry asked. “Till the match is over?” 

“Nah, it really can’t.”

Cedric hesitated only a moment longer. Hagrid was their friend, and, from the look on his distressed face, this was important. They followed Hagrid out of the Quidditch stadium, deep into the Forest. Hagrid was acting quite strange, and it turned out he was afraid of being fired any day. Because of this, he wanted to introduce them to Grawp. 

Whatever Cedric had been expecting that afternoon, it was certainly not meeting a giant. Not just any giant though, Hagrid’s half-brother and the cause of his bruises over the past months. Hagrid asked them, in the event he was sacked, to take care of Grawp and teach him to talk. Cedric found this prospect terrifying, but Harry and Hermione looked determined to help their friend, and he wasn’t about to abandon them on this, so eventually they all agreed. 

Actually meeting Grawp and waking up Grawp was….interesting. 

When they finally made their way back to the Quidditch stadium, Hermione muttering about how irresponsible that all was and Harry trying to calm her down, they were greeted by the sound of  _ Weasley Is Our King.  _ Judging from the lyrics of this rendition, however, it was no longer being carried by Slytherin voices. 

_ Weasley can save anything, _

_ He never leaves a single ring,  _

_ That’s why Gryffindors all sing:  _

_ Weasley is our King.  _

“HARRY! HERMIONE! CEDRIC,” Ron yelled, waving the silver Quidditch Cup in the air and running over to them, looking quite pleased with himself. “WE DID IT! WE WON!” 

As the singing crowd carried their friend along to celebrations, the three of them quietly agreed to save the news until tomorrow. The mood of Gryffindor tower was loud and boisterous, a welcome reprieve, and Ron deserved to savor the moment. 

* * *

It took several days for Harry and Hermione to find a spare moment to talk to Ron, who was riding a giddy wave of euphoria in the aftermath of the Quidditch match. When they finally did get a chance to talk, they convinced Ron to join them at the edge of the lake in the sun and study. 

Cedric was swamped with work and did not join them as often, though he managed to find Harry and give him a hug or a kiss every day. Despite the workload, Cedric didn’t appear to be actually that stressed about exams, which Harry was grateful for. It was about time Cedric recognized his own skills; Harry just wished he could transfer that confidence to how he was feeling about the interview. 

After Ron rambled a bit about Quidditch, Harry and Hermione managed to say their piece. Ron’s emotions traveled from surprise to fear, and they all agreed it wasn’t good to dwell on the matter until Hagrid was actually fired. Harry wasn’t sure they could deal with that on top of everything else. 

* * *

The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight, the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green of the lawns rippled occasionally in the gentle breeze. O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were upon the castle at last. 

Harry could feel the tension building like status electricity in the Fifth and Seventh year students. Ernie Macmillan had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their study habits. Malfoy was being his usual self, seemingly delighting as Neville’s anxiety visibly increased. The black market for aids in concentration, mental agility, and wakefulness flourished. 

They received their examination schedules and details of the procedure for O.W.L.s during their next Transfiguration lesson.Their first exam, Theory of Charms, was scheduled for Monday morning. Harry’s last exam, History of Magic, was scheduled the same day as Cedric’s Healer Apprenticeship interview. 

Hermione asked Professor McGonagall when they should expect their results--some time in July--and Harry found himself smiling widely as he imagined opening his results at Grimmauld Place…

_ How will Sirius and Remus react?  _

For the first time, a wave of truely nauseating anxiety overcame him about the exams. Maybe it would have been easier if he was back at the Dursley’s. Sure, it would majorly suck, but at least there he didn’t have anyone to let down. Surely Sirius wouldn’t be horribly disappointed if he did terrible? But what about Remus? And for that matter...Amos and Thea. 

Not only were they his boyfriend’s parents, they had informally adopted him into the Diggory family. He had a lot to prove to them, and he had Umbridge to prove wrong. There was a lot riding on these exams. 

At lunch, Hermione tried to talk Harry into helping her review Charms, once he agreed he immediately regretted it and shoved the book back into her hands. She was agitated, nervous, and acing every question he gave her. Meanwhile Ron was reading two years worth of Charms notes. Dinner was a subdued affair and the evening an uncomfortable sort. 

None of the Fifth or Seventh Years talked very much at breakfast the next day either. Once the meal was over both years milled around the entrance hall while the other students went off to lessons. Cedric slipped away from his group and Harry followed, meeting him in the relative privacy of one of the alcoves. 

“Good luck,” Cedric said, kissing him gently and then pulling him into a hug. 

“Hmm,” Harry sighed, content and happy, “Good luck to you. Love you Cedric.” 

“Love you too Harry.” 

At half-past nine they were called class by class to reenter the Great Hall. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, though neither Harry nor Ron was keen to talk about it. Cedric seemed to be at ease, at lunch Harry used the pendants to ask and Cedric said he was doing alright, just nervous about the interview. Harry reminded him of how proud his mother was, how confident she had been at Christmas, and was rewarded by a genuine smile. 

On the whole Harry thought the Charms practical after lunch went rather well also. Herbology was Wednesday (other than a bite from a Fanged Geranium, Harry felt he had done alright) and then, on Thursday, Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

For the first time, Harry was completely confident he passed. He took a vindictive pleasure out of it too, during the practical, performing all the counter jinxes and defensive spells right under Umbridge’s nose. He even conjured a Patronus, using the mental image of her getting sacked and then punched by Cedric as fuel. 

On Friday, Harry and Ron had the day off as Cedric and Hermione sat their Ancient Runes exams. They took a break from revision to play a game of Wizard’s Chess, and Harry was glad to get his mind off things for a bit. Hermione came back from the exams quite angry because she was sure she had miswritten at least one word. 

Cedric sighed and put a hand on her shoulder, looking at her intently, “Hermione, if you insist on stressing like this I have no idea how you are going to survive the next two years. Relax. One word is not going to cost you your O, Ancient Runes are as much an art as a science. It’s not exact. Seriously, relax.” 

_ You always know what to say,  _ Harry thought, smiling at his boyfriend fondly. 

They all spent the weekend revising for the Potions exam on Monday; Cedric insisted on making some time in his schedule to quiz Harry for a couple hours out by the lake. Studying, in this case, eventually devolved into a series of kisses. With everything going on, they needed it, needed each other. 

Just as Harry was expecting Cedric to pull away, the kiss deepened; it was somehow different then before, more...hungry. Cedric’s fingers were digging into his skin, their bodies were pressed tightly together, Harry found himself hyper aware of...everything. The warmth that shivering down his muscles wasn’t the same fervent sparks either, it was...passionate. Almost...sensual. It was a foreign, but not altogether unpleasant feeling. A groan escaped him, and Cedric abruptly broke apart. 

“Sorry,” he said, a bit breathless. “I know you don’t...I didn’t mean to…” 

“Oh shut up and kiss me, you stupid Hufflepuff,” Harry grinned, pulling him back. 

All in all, on Monday Harry walked into the Potions exam actually feeling alright. His mood was improved when he realized Professor Snape was not present and by the time he handed in his flask, Harry actually felt mildly confident that he passed. 

Harry was determined to perform well in Tuesday’s Care of Magical Creatures Exam and not let Hagrid down. On the whole he felt, or hoped, that it went quite well, but Hagrid still looked nervous. Harry gave Hagrid a last fleeting thumbs-up before heading back up to the castle. 

Cedric didn’t answer his pendant when Harry called. Harry, understandably panicked. It was only when he had run half the distance back to the school that he realized Cedric would have surely called if he was in trouble, right? Right? 

He found Cedric in the library, asleep on an open book. 

“So, you’re done,” Harry said quietly after a few minutes. 

Cedric nodded, "Only Gav's got a N.E.W.T left. No more standardized exams for me...until hopefully I take the General Healer certification in a few years. Then I can work towards becoming a Combat Healer.” 

“You will,” Harry smiled. “You just have to get through the interview, and I’ve seen you working for it. You’re going to do fantastic, love.” 

The astronomy theory exam on Wednesday morning went well enough. Divination was in the afternoon, and it went badly even by Harry’s standards. The practical exam for Astronomy was at eleven o’clock at night. Harry had been filling in his star chart for an hour when the commotion began. 

Half a dozen figures were walking over the lawn, being led by a pudgy figure that was clearly Umbridge. He had just turned back to his exam when the distant sound drew his attention; a knock that echoed into the night, immediately followed by the barking of a dog. 

He looked up, his heart hammering. There was light on in Hagrid’s windows and the people he had observed crossing the lawn were now silhouettes against it. The doors opened and six figures crossed the threshold. When the door closed once more it was followed only by silence...and then a distant roar. The professor reminded them of the exam and the time, which they were quickly running out of. 

_ BANG! _

Hagrid’s door had burst open, and by the light they could see him quite clearly. He was fighting, fists flying, and the figures were trying to stun him. 

“No!” Hermione cried out. 

“My dear!” Professor Tofty said in a scandalized voice, “This is an examination!” 

But by this point almost no one was paying attention. 

Jets of red lights were flying into the night, cries and yells for Hagrid to come peacefully could be heard clearly across the grounds. Harry stared as a stunner hit Fang and Hagrid reacted, realizing they had never actually seen their friend truly angry…

“How dare you!” Another figure was sprinting towards the cabin. “How  _ dare  _ you!” It was McGonagall.

“Stay out of this Minerva!” Umbridge’s voice carried surprisingly well over the lawns of the castle. “I’ll have you off these premises quickly enough, do not give me a reason to hasten your departure.” 

“ _ ‘Hasten my departure,’ _ ” McGonagall repeated sarcastically. Harry rather got the impression that she had drawn her wand. “I’ll have you know, Dolores, that I have no intention of leaving peacefully.” 

A jet of red light left Umbridge and collided with a shield McGonagall had erected. When she spoke the danger in her voice seemed to shiver through the air, “You do not wish to cross wands with me, Dolores.” 

“I will if I must! I will have order!” 

Abruptly Hagrid gave out a great indignant roar, picking up one of the Aurors and tossing him like a sack of potatoes. This drew McGonagall’s attention, “Leave him alone!  _ Alone _ , I say! On what ground are you attacking him? He had done nothing, nothing to warrant such--” 

Hermione, Parvati, and Lavender screamed. No fewer than four Stunners had shot from the figures around the cabin towards Professor McGonagall. For a moment she looked luminous, illuminated by an eerie red glow--Harry could only be grateful it was not green--and then she landed on her back and moved no more. They had shot her from behind. 

“COWARDS!” Hagrid bellowed, his voice booming across the grounds. “RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O’THAT--AN’THAT!” Minutes later, Hagrid ran away, disappearing into the darkness. 

They were all shaken by the event; Hermione was furious with Umbridge, and Harry agreed with the feeling. When they returned to the Gryffindor common room they found it full, several people had woken their friends to tell the tale. 

“But why sack Hagrid now?” Angelina Johnson was shaking her head. “It’s not like Trelawney! He’s been teaching much better than usual this year!” 

“Umbridge hates part-humans,” Hermione said bitterly, flopping down into an armchair. 

Harry scowled, “That’s not all she hates. She hates anything and anyone who is different.” 

It was nearly four in the morning before the common room cleared. Harry felt wide awake, the image of Hagrid sprinting away into the dark was haunting him. He was so angry with Umbridge--for Hagrid, for McGonagall, for Cedric, for everyone she had brought pain to--no punishment he could imagine ever seemed to be enough to equal justice. 

Their final exam, History of Magic, was not to take place until that afternoon. Harry would very much have liked to go back to bed after breakfast, but Cedric was leaving an hour after lunch and he didn’t want to leave his boyfriend anxious and alone. He pulled Cedric away from last minute studying to go for a short walk on the ground. 

Harry was confident in his boyfriend’s abilities, he just needed to relax really. So they walked, and talked, and kissed, and laughed, and smiled, and generally enjoyed being in each other’s presence. All too soon it was time. 

After giving him a kiss goodbye for luck he walked with Cedric to the gates of Hogwarts, where the other students applying for the program and Tonks were waiting. The witch waved in greeting. 

“Wotcher Harry. I’m here to keep you safe Cedric, we don’t want a repeat performance from earlier this summer.”

Harry felt a small knot of tension leave his shoulders at her words. At least Cedric was protected. And, only moments later, the group was walking to the edge of Hogwarts wards and apparating away. 

Harry was left alone, suddenly struck by a strange sense of horrible foreboding. He shook himself, trying to remind himself that Cedric wasn’t alone at least, but as he studied back in the Common Room, he could not quite get the feeling to leave. 

The Fifth Years entered the Great Hall at two o’clock and took their places in front of their overturned examination papers. Harry felt exhausted and unfocused. He just wanted this to be over so that he could go and sleep--maybe Cedric would be back by then and they could cuddle in the Room of Requirement. That would be nice. Then tomorrow, he, Ron, Cedric, Gavin, and James were going to go down to the Quidditch pitch and celebrate their freedom from studying...

* * *

A mere half an hour after they left Hogwarts they arrived at the reception area of St. Mungo’s, without incident. Tonks looked relieved, the walk between apparition points was the most likely place for an attack. She went and talked to the receptionist, gesturing to Cedric and the group of Hogwarts students. A minute later another witch came out, checked their names and IDs on a piece of paper, and directed them to sit on the chairs along the wall in order. 

Sitting there, waiting, was practically agony. Cedric had to force himself to breathe deeply; it wouldn’t exactly look good if he had an anxiety attack over a simple interview. When the five St. Mungo’s Healers that were to conduct the interviews finally showed up and he was just ready to get it over with. 

“Cedric Diggory?” A stern-faced middle aged witch with her hair pulled back into a tight bun raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded. “I am Healer Romilda, I will be your proctor for the interview. Come with me.” 

As Cedric Diggory broke away from the group, Tonks flashed him a thumbs up; he managed a smile despite the growing unease in his stomach. The witch led him deep within the hospital, past rows of wards, until finally they arrived at the door to a small office. It was bare except for two hard backed chairs facing each other. 

“Some paperwork for you, Mr. Diggory,” she muttered, handing him a clipboard and a standard looking hospital quill. Cedric took it in hand…

And felt a stabbing, paralyzing fear strike him in the center of his heart. 

The moment he had touched the quill Cedric felt a familiar jerk from behind his navel. His body had left the hardback chair, and left the office altogether. He could not unclench the fingers gripping the quill; it was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color. He was helpless to do anything but let it take him where it would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story might roughly follow canon...but that doesn't mean I don't have some twists up my sleeve. 
> 
> As always, thank you to Tree Spiral, the spectacular beta for this project!


	16. When Faced With Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene of this chapter is bit on the gruesome side at times. If you are worried about that potentially upsetting you, please skip to the first scene break.

**Chapter 16: When Faced With Darkness**

Cedric braced himself for the impact; as his feet slammed into the ground he widened his stance, preventing himself from falling altogether. His instincts were screaming. He stumbled, however, and lost precious moments drawing his wand. He had not had his hand clenched around the wood of it for half a second before--

_ “Expelliarmus!”  _

\--it was wrenched away. 

And then he had a real reason to panic. 

He was standing in a bare, dark stone room, illuminated only by the flickering torches set into the sconces along the side of the wall. There was a door on the farthest wall from him--the only promise of safety--but he knew instantly he had no chance of reaching it. 

Standing between him and the door was Healer Romilda, one hand pointed her wand at his chest and the other holding his wand captive..and she was smiling maniacally. There was a fire in her eyes that was nothing short of terrifying. Even as Cedric watched, the features of her face began to shift, the Polyjuice wearing off, revealing...a face he had only seen in news clippings and nightmares. 

_ Bellatrix Lestrange.  _

“Awww,” she said sweetly in a sing-song voice, “Little itty bitty Ceddy is scared.” 

Cedric was sure his feet were actually glued to the floor. He could not move, could barely breathe, couldn’t form any coherent thought. There was only fear. Paralyzing fear, unlike anything he had faced before. 

Distantly, he wondered if he would live long enough to see Harry again. 

_ HARRY!  _

Surely, he only had a matter of seconds. Somehow, he found his voice. 

_ “Aperta voc--”  _

_ “Crucio!”  _

The scream tore its way physically out of his chest, cutting off any hope he had of finishing the incantation. White hot pain exploded in his nerves. The world around him, all thought of anything beyond that stone room, fell away. Life was nothing but agony. 

Cedric’s legs buckled beneath him and he fell roughly to the floor. There he lay for an amount of time he could not determine, writhing in pain. Distantly somewhere Bellatrix was cackling, clapping her hands together like an excited child. 

_ At least...it’s not Harry... _

When the pain finally subsided he could do nothing but force himself to breath for several moments. His vision was swimming with stars at the edges. His muscles were twitching and trembling unconsciously, shaking with the after tremors of the Cruciatus curse. 

_ “Aperta,”  _ he forced himself to speak, his voice choking on a sob.  _ “Vocem…”  _

_ “Lingua furantur!”  _

Cedric opened his mouth to speak again, but no words came again, only a broken moan of pain. Bellatrix was laughing. He could make sound, but he could not force any word of any language out of his mouth. A fresh wave of panic sprung out of his chest. 

“Pesky things, soulpendants are,” Bellatrix said softly. “Don’t worry Ceddy, we’ll call your boy along soon enough. He is, after all, the point of all this. And how wonderful that will be! Tell me, do you think my lord will be merciful? I rather hope not.” She leaned over him, smirking. “But you and I have so much time to get to know each other before then.” 

A memory of the graveyard flashed through Cedric’s mind--a memory of Harry. He endured the pain, the darkness, and still he rose. He fought. 

_ Fuck off, Bellatrix. You can’t have him.  _

Cedric forced a hand under him, pushed himself up, determined to stand and fight this. Bellatrix laughed, watching him struggle. Just as he was getting his feet under him, just as he was raising his chin to look her defiantly in the eye, the witch raised her wand. 

_ “Crucio!”  _

It was pain beyond anything he had experienced or endured, pain beyond anything he had thought it was possible to survive. Surely his bones were splintering? Surely his organs had burst? Surely he was dying. His eyes were rolling back in his head, he was wavering on the edge of unconsciousness...he wanted to black out...did he want to die? 

_ At least it’s me, not Harry.  _

Somehow, amidst the agony, he felt the warmth of the pendant resting against his skin. That point on his sternum, that little patch of skin no larger than a galleon...didn’t hurt. And Cedric thought of the stone transfixed by magic to the center of it and he knew he did not want to die. 

He thought of Harry, and he wanted very much to live. 

_ I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die... _

When the pain finally dissipated it left him gasping for breath, crying, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Bellatrix was silent for a long moment, the only sound in the large room was Cedric. 

“Oh, isn’t this fun, Ceddy!” she said finally, her voice high and thin. “My master will be so pleased! I wonder if I can  _ break  _ you before we have to go.” 

Cedric tuned out her words, somehow managed to focus on the wand held in Bellatrix’s opposite hand. He couldn’t speak but maybe, just maybe if he could reach it...he knew some wordless magic. Could he fight her off? Probably not. But maybe he could call for help, break the spell preventing him from speaking? It wasn’t likely, but he had to try. 

_ “How do you want to die?”  _ His own words echoed back at him. He refused to lay down and take whatever fate these people saw fit to hand him. 

Again, Cedric forced a hand underneath him and pushed himself upwards, forced his feet underneath him. Bellatrix led him to his feet, smiling bemusedly at him. For a moment they both stood still and silent, Cedric staring at his wand hungrily. He lunged for it. 

Bellatrix cackled as he stumbled forward, leaping out of the way and leaving him off balance.  _ “Crucio!”  _

Cedric fell. He screamed and cried, for all the good it would do him now. 

_ At least it isn’t Harry.  _

“Oh Ceddy,” Bellatrix said sweetly as she finally released the curse. “Is this what you wanted?” She leaned over him, waving his wand across his field of vision. Cedric, despite knowing it was pointless, tried to reach for it. Bellatrix smiled, snatching it out of his reach. She looked at it for a moment, as if appraising it for it’s value, then she turned back to him. “Pity, it’s not very interesting, is it? I don’t see much use for it…” Bellatrix held his wand in both hands, grinning mischievously, and flexed it. “And we can’t have you getting your grubby whittle fingers on it, now can we?” 

_ NO! Merlin, have mercy! Please! No… _

Cedric had always thought, ever since he was little, the breaking of a wand must be a dramatic thing. A tool capable of channelling so much power, of reworking the fabric of reality around it, surely would not snap like a common piece of wood? Surely there must be a thunderclap or something to mark the end of such an object? But there wasn’t. 

Cedric’s wand snapped like any other piece of thin wood, the sound hollow and short. A thin white mist poured out of it, but there was no indication of the power he had wielded with it in his hands. He did not want to believe it, could not make himself believe it. 

_ My wand! My wand… _

It was a sort of emotional wound that tore into him as if snapped, only it didn’t really hurt, it was just...numb. Hollow. A cavity opening in his chest, a nothingness where once something precious had been. 

Bellatrix chucked the pieces at him, and he felt tears streaming down his face. Suddenly he found it difficult to breathe, Bellatrix was kneeling on his chest, constricting his lungs, holding down his arms roughly. Somewhere he found the energy to fight, to struggle against her hold, but it was useless really. 

“Oh Ceddy,” She said softly, drawing a thin silver knife from somewhere on her person. “We have to be sure our suspicions are correct, you see.” 

The knife traced a path along his left arm, tearing into his flesh. Cedric whimpered in pain, clenching his teeth to avoid giving her the pleasure of hearing him cry out. She worked the point of it underneath the red cloth covering his wrist, and with a switch movement pulled back, severing the fabric Harry had once so lovingly tied around him, revealing the soulmark. 

Bellatrix traced it gently with the tip of a finger, then pinched tightly, her nails digging into the center of Harry’s initials. “Ugly things, soulmarks,” she remarked absently, as if commenting on the weather. “So... _ personal _ . But you care about  _ this _ , don’t you Ceddy…” she leaned closer as she spoke, the wind of her whispers brushing against his face. 

From somewhere else she drew out a round, flat, smooth stone, slightly larger than a galleon, and pressed it against his soulmark. She muttered a curse he did not hear, and the stone began to slowly heat up. All the while she never broke his gaze, her smile never wavered. 

It reached the point of being uncomfortable, and then it was burning and a whimper escaped him. And when it reached the point of burning it did not cool down for even a second, it continued to rise in heat. When it began to dig into his flesh, Cedric screamed. Eventually, he was sure he could feel it scraping against the bone of his wrist. 

_ At least it’s not Harry. _

Time ceased to hold any real meaning. It could have been minutes or it could have been years for all Cedric could tell. Each fresh scream seemed to delight Bellatrix more than the last. And yet still, Cedric endured. He thought of Harry, and let that thought ground him when nothing else could. 

Bellatrix left him eventually, dancing as she swept out of the room. He lay weakly against the cold floor, drenched in sweat and tears and his own blood. He could not have attempted to stand and walk to the door if he tried, let alone run like escaping would require him to. 

Numbly, he found himself staring at the angry red burn that covered his left wrist. The stone had burned several layers into his skin and muscle...he could see bone...only one corner of the Triquetra was even visible anymore. He could not feel the fingers of his hand properly, the sensations in his left arm ended in a homogenous ball of pain. Blood was pooling around it. 

Distantly, he knew as the skin grew back the soulmark would too. But Cedric somehow doubted he would live long enough to see it healed. 

* * *

“Turn over your papers,” said Professor Marchbanks from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hourglass. “You may begin…” 

Harry found it very difficult to focus, no matter how many times he reread the questions the words seem to muddle together as nonsense. Exhaustion was dragging at his eyelids, at the hand that held his quill, pulling him back. It was a fight just to stay awake. 

_ Think, Harry! You saw these notes this morning!  _ He buried his face in his hands, while all around him quills scratched out never-ending answers and the sand trickled through the hourglass at the front…

He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread...The black door swung open for him, and here he was in the circular room with many doors, through the second door...Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres...When he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows…

Two Death Eaters stood there, an unconscious, battered body levitating between them...wearing Hogwarts robes. A Hufflepuff tie. 

A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness, “Wake him for me Lucius. Let him have his voice back, Bellatrix.” 

_ “Rennervate.”  _

_ “Finite Incantatem.”  _

They dropped the body without any pretense, letting him fall roughly to the ground. The boy got his hands under him, looked up defiantly...Cedric Diggory was not yet completely broken. Pity, he had hoped to have Potter see Cedric begging. 

Maybe he would. 

“Take it for me, Cedric,” He spoke again, his voice cold. “Lift it down, now...I cannot touch it...but perhaps you, his soulmate, can…” 

“Go to hell!” Cedric shouted, his voice hoarse. 

_ “Crucio!”  _

Cedric let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand, but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted, and Cedric groaned and became motionless. 

“Lord Voldemort is waiting…” 

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the young man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain, yet rigid with defiance…

“You’ll have to kill me.” 

“Undoubtedly I shall in the end,” the cold voice said. “But first...You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again...We have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear your screams…” 

Cedric looked up, his gaze never wavering, and spoke, very quickly, three words. 

_ “Aperta vocem meam!”  _

Somebody screamed as Voldemort raised his wand again, somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk onto the cold stone floor. Harry hit the ground and awoke, still yelling, his scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around him. Numbly, he wrapped his fingers around the pendant...the steady thrum of magic in it was frantic, panicked, pained…

_ “Stay away Harry, please! You can’t save me. Contact the Order, get help if you can! Don’t rush after me, I’m just bait. If...if this is goodbye...I love you. I will always love you.”  _

_ CEDRIC NO! _

Distantly, he realized the professor was talking to him. 

“I’m not going...I don’t need the Hospital Wing...I don’t want…” 

He was gibbering, trying to pull away from Professor Tofty, who was looking at him with much concern, and who had just helped Harry out into the entrance hall while the students all around them stared. 

“I’m--I’m fine, sir,” Harry stammered, wiping the sweat from his face. “Really...I just fell asleep...Had a nightmare…” 

He asked if Harry was going to finish the examination, Harry could only shake his head. The professor suggested he go to bed. 

“I'll do that,” Harry said, nodding vigorously. “Thanks very much.” 

He waited the second when the old man’s heels disappeared over the threshold into the Great Hall, then whirled around toward the marble staircase…

“Harry?” Gavin’s voice nearly startled him out of his skin. 

Again he turned, seeing Gavin and James walk towards him from the entrance hall, “Gavin, James, what are you doing here?” 

“Thought we’d come get you after your exam and go greet Cedric together,” James explained. “He should be along any minute now really. You alright mate?” 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Gavin added. 

“I...uh, follow me,” Harry muttered, taking off at a run. 

“What’s going on Harry?” 

“We need McGonagall!” Harry shouted back as they pelted up the stairs and hurtled along the corridors. As he ran, he focused on the pendant as his neck and spoke the incantation to activate it. 

_ Hold on, Cedric,  _ he thought firmly.  _ Help is coming. Just hold on. Hold on. Please. I need you, I love you, you cannot leave me, not like this... _

They burst through the double doors of the Hospital Wing like a hurricane, causing Madam Pomfrey, who had been spooning some bright blue liquid into a patient's open mouth, to shriek in alarm. 

“Potter, what do you think you’re doing?” 

“I need to see Professor McGonagall,” gasped Harry, his breath tearing in his lungs. “Now...It’s urgent…” 

But Professor McGonagall was not there; the damage of four simultaneous stunners had required she be sent to St. Mungo’s. Harry felt dread sink into his stomach and rest there solidly. Terror was rising inside him. 

There was nobody left to tell. Dumbledore had gone, Hagrid was gone, and now Professor McGonagall too...the mirror! 

He turned to Gavin and James, “Find Ron and Hermione and bring them to Gryffindor tower,” he said quickly.

Gavin raised his eyebrows, “Harry, what’s--” 

“There’s no time!” Harry shouted, “Please, trust me! I’ll explain at the tower!” 

“Okay…” 

Harry made it to the tower in record time, tearing through the common room to the dormitory and taking the mirror out from where it was hidden…

“Sirius Black.” 

The mirror remained unchanged. 

“Sirius Black!” Harry repeated...for all the good it did. “SIRIUS BLACK! REMUS LUPIN! ANYBODY!” His voice broke, the sound of Cedric’s screams ringing in the back of his mind, a sob escaped him. “Anybody! Sirius Black! Please, somebody help!” 

No one appeared. 

Logically, he wanted to say they were just looking for Cedric, that everything was fine. But after that vision, after the state he had seen his soulmate in--nothing was fine anymore. Even if the Order was looking, even if nothing additionally horrible had happened, the Order had no idea where to look. 

Minutes later, he was facing Gavin, James, Ron, and Hermione. He led them along numbly, peering through doorways, and at last found an empty classroom into which he dived, closing the door behind them the moment they were inside it. He leaned against it, facing them. 

“Voldemort’s got Cedric.” 

_ “What?”  _

“How d’you--” 

“Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam,” Harry said, numbly holding up the pendant. “And Cedric spoke through the pendants.” 

“But...but where? How?” Hermione said, her face white. 

“Why?” Gavin added, looking like he was close to throwing up. 

“I dunno how,” Harry said, distantly aware tears were fighting their way out his eyes. “But I know exactly where. There’s a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls, and they’re at the end of row ninety-seven...He’s trying to use Cedric to get whatever it is he wants from in there...He’s...he’s torturing him. They’re gonna kill him.” 

Harry found his voice was shaking, as were his knees, and the tremors had returned to his hands. He moved over to a desk and sat down on it, trying to master his emotions. 

“How’re we going to get there?” he asked them. 

“G-get there?” Ron said, clearly hesitating. 

“Get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can rescue Cedric!” 

There was a long silence. Harry could not understand why they were all staring at him as if he had grown a second head. 

“Harry,” Hermione said hesitantly, “How would Voldemort and Cedric even have got into the Ministry without being seen? The building is filled with Aurors!” 

“An Invisibility Cloak, or something!” Harry shouted. “Anyway, the Department of Mysteries has always been completely empty whenever I’ve been--” 

“You’ve never been there, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. “You’ve dreamed about the place, that’s all.” 

“Excuse me,” James said suddenly, “would one of you explain what the bloody hell is going on like...normal people…” 

“Harry has…” Hermione grimaced. “Dreams about--” 

“Visions,” Harry growled. “Not dreams Hermione.” 

Hermione inclined her head, “ _ Visions _ about Lord Voldemort’s actions.” 

“They’re not normal dreams!” Harry insisted, standing up and taking a step close to Hermione. “How d’you explain Ron’s dad then, what was all that about, how come I knew what happened to him?” 

“He has a point,” Ron said quietly. 

“Okay, fine,” Hermione said tiredly. “Let’s say this vision is accurate.” 

“It is! He spoke through the pendant!” 

“Then contact Sirius!” 

“I tried!” Harry cried, “No one's answering in the blasted mirror!” 

“Who's Sirius?!” James demanded. The three of them fell silent, looking apprehensively towards James and Gavin. “Sirius...Black?” 

“...yes,” Hermione said slowly. “Do you trust us?” 

“Cedric’s in trouble. Do we have a choice?” Gavin said frankly. “. Why do you need to contact Sirius Black?” 

“Because he’s innocent, my godfather, and probably the only one who can get help to Cedric besides us,” Harry said slowly. “But Hermione, we need to get moving now! We don’t have time!” 

“By why, why on earth would Voldemort want to use  _ Cedric  _ to get the weapon, or whatever the thing is?” Hermione persisted. 

“I dunno, there could be loads of reasons!” Harry yelled. “Cedric’s my soulmate, there is a magical connection between us, maybe that has something to do with it.” 

“Harry…” Hermione’s voice was strained, “Have you ever...have you considered that...well, Voldemort knows you, Harry! You have a saving-people-thing! He knows you’ll go after Cedric.” 

“So?!” Harry demanded, “It doesn’t matter if he’s done it to get me there or not! Cedric told me to stay away but…” His voice cracked. “I can’t Hermione! You didn’t...You didn’t hear him screaming…”

James took a deep breath, and looked at him squarely, “Cedric would die to protect you, Harry. You can’t--” 

“I can!” Harry spat, whirling around. “You think I wouldn’t die to protect him, just as much?!” 

Again, there was silence.

“You don’t know…” Harry said weakly. “What this is like. I _ \--I know _ that Cedric, right now, is in pain. I could see it in the vision. I could feel it in the pendant. He’s my  _ soulmate! _ I’m not...I’m not going to abandon him. Not ever.”

“I’m with you, mate,” Ron said quietly. 

Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples, “And of course I’m not leaving you two idiots alone.” 

“We care about him too, Harry,” Gavin said softly. “If you’re going to the Department of Mysteries, I’m coming too.” 

_ What about Kayla?  _ Harry thought, and realized at some point the young witch had entered the rapidly expanding sphere of people he cared about. And somehow that made sense.

“Gavin, your sister--” 

“Has people that will look out for her if I don’t make it back,” Gavin said firmly.

James nodded, “And of course I’m coming.” 

The classroom door opened. The five of them whipped around. Ginny walked in, looking curious, closely followed by Luna, who as usual looked as though she had drifted in accidentally. 

“Hi,” Ginny said, uncertain. “We recognized Harry’s voice--what are you yelling about?” 

“Harry…” Hermione said slowly, “Harry, they  _ can  _ help. We need to contact headquarters and see if there’s anyone there who can help.” 

“But--” 

“Harry, I’m begging you, please listen! If there’s no one from the old crowd we can get to go after him, then I swear I will not try to stop you, I will be with you every step of the way.” 

“Cedric is being tortured NOW!” Harry shouted. “We haven’t got time to waste--” 

“But this is most likely a trap and getting ourselves all killed won’t help him!” 

_ Oh, right.  _

“How’re we gonna do that?” James asked quietly. 

“We’ll have to use Umbridge’s fire and see if we can contact him,” Hermione said, looking terrified. “We’ll draw Umbridge away, but we’ll need lookouts, and that’s where we can use Ginny and Luna.” 

\---

“Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!” 

His head began to spin as though he had just got off a fairground ride. He kept his eyes screwed shut against the whirling ash, and when the spinning stopped, he opened them to find himself looking out upon the long, cold kitchen of Grimmauld Place. 

There was nobody there. He had expected this, yet was not prepared for the molten wave of dread and panic that seemed to burst through his stomach floor at the sigh of the deserted room. Where  _ was  _ Sirius? Was there another attack? Was he in danger too? Where were Amos and Thea and Remus? 

“Sirius?” he shouted. “Sirius, are you there? Remus? Amos? Thea? ANYONE?” 

Kreacher the house-elf finally came creeping into view. He looked highly delighted about something, though he seemed to have recently sustained a nasty injury to both hands, which were heavily bandaged. 

“It’s the Potter boy’s head in the fire,” Kreacher informed the empty kitchen, glancing at Harry oddly triumphantly. “What has he come for, Kreacher wonders?” 

“Where’s Sirius, Kreacher?” 

The house-elf gave a wheezy chuckle. “Master has gone out, Harry Potter.” 

“Where’s he gone?  _ Where’s he gone, Kreacher? _ ” Kreacher merely cackled. “I’m warning you! What about Remus? Or Thea or Amos? Mad-Eye? Any of them, are any of them here?” 

“Nobody but Kreacher!” 

“Where have they gone?” Harry yelled at the elf. “ _ Kreacher, has he gone to the Department of Mysteries? _ ” 

Kreacher stopped in his tracks, “Master does not tell poor Kreacher where he is going.” 

“But you know! Don’t you? You know where he is! Can you bring him here? I have to talk to him!” 

There was a moment’s silence, then the elf let out his loudest cackle yet. “Master is hunting for smoke! He does not know where to be going! Kreacher and his Mistress are alone again!” 

And with that he scurried away. 

“You--!” 

Harry felt a great pain at the top of his head. He inhaled ash and, choking, found himself being dragged backward through the flames until, with a horrible abruptness, he was staring up into the wide, pallid face of Professor Umbridge. 

“You think,” she whispered, bending Harry’s neck back even farther, “that after two nifflers I was going to let one more foul, scavenging,  _ queer  _ little creature enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensory Spells place all around my office doorway, you foolish boy. Take his wand,” she barked at someone he could not see, and he felt a hand grobe inside the chest pocket of his robes and remove his wand. “Hers too…” 

Moments later there was a commotion outside and several large Slytherins entered, each gripping Ron, Ginny, Luna, and--to Harry’s bewilderment--Neville. All four of them had been gagged. Gavin and James were nowhere to be seen, they had been in charge of setting off the distraction, and Harry hoped they had managed to get away. 

“Clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone…” Umbridge looked positively delighted at that. 

Harry found he was so filled with anger and hatred the tremors were no longer from panic. 

He was shaking with rage. 

“It’s none of your business who I talk to,” he snarled. 

“Very well,” she said, dangerously sweet. “I offered you the chance to tell me freely, Mr. Potter. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco--fetch Professor Snape.” 

Malfoy stowed Harry’s wand inside his robes and left the room smirking, but Harry hardly noticed. His thoughts were whirling...he was wrong, there  _ was _ a member of the Order left who could help Cedric. Snape. 

“You wanted to see me, Headmistress?” Snape said, looking around at all the pairs of struggling students with an expression of complete indifference. 

“Ah, Professor Snape,” Umbridge said, smiling. “Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please.”   
“You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter,” he surveyed her cooly, “Surely you did not use it all? I told you three drops would be sufficient.” 

“Surely you can make more!” 

“Certainly,” Snape’s lips curled. “I should have it ready for you in around a month.” 

“A month? I wish to interrogate him! I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!” 

“I have already told you,” Snape said smoothly, “that I have no further stock of Veritaserum.” 

Snape looked back at Harry, who stared at him, frantic to communicate without words. 

_ Voldemort’s got Cedric in the Department of Mysteries, Sirius needs to know so they can find him,  _ he thought desperately.  _ Voldemort’s got Cedric-- _

Umbridge was shrieking to Snape then, dismissing him. Snape gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave. Harry knew his last chance of letting the Order know what was going on was walking out the door. 

“He’s got Cedric!” Harry shouted. “He’s got Cedric at the place where it’s hidden! Padfoot needs to know!” 

Snape had stopped with his hand on Umbridge’s door handle. 

“Padfoot?” Professor Umbridge looked eagerly from Harry to Snape. “What is Padfoot? Where is the nasty Diggory boy? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?” 

Snape looked around at Harry. His face was inscrutable. He could not tell whether he had understood or not, but he did not dare speak more plainly in front of Umbridge. 

“I have no idea,” Snape said coolly. 

Harry’s heart sank; it didn’t appear Snape was going to help them. They were on their own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes...Cedric and Harry really don't deserve what I put them through, do they? 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to Tree Spiral, the wonderful beta of this project!


	17. Rescue Mission

**Chapter 17: Rescue Mission**

“The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue,” Umbridge said quietly. 

“No!” Hermione shrieked. “That’s illegal! The Minister wouldn’t want you to break the law, Professor!” 

“What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Umbridge was smiling. There was a nasty, _eager_ look on her face. It was downright terrifying. 

_“Crucio!”_

Harry had braced for this the moment she threatened it. He fell to his knees, shaking, his body bucking and writhing unconsciously, but he did not cry out. He gritted his teeth tightly, so tightly it hurt, but he would not give her the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Distantly he realized, in his agony, that where the pendant rested against his chest...didn’t hurt..somewhere he thought he heard someone sobbing...

Umbridge stood over him, smirking as the pain dissipated. Harry stared up at her defiantly, and gave a hoarse laugh. 

“Sorry to tell you, Professor,” Harry panted, “But you’re really not that good at that spell. You’ve got _nothing_ on Voldemort. I’m not afraid of you.” 

“I really hate children like you,” she said vehemently. “Somebody has to act around here. Cornelius never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same...nasty, queer children just have to be dealt with.” 

“That was you?” Harry gasped, still trembling with the after affects of the curse, forcing his way to his feet. 

“Somebody has to take action,” she raised her wand and Harry braced himself again. _“Cru-”_

“NO!” Hermione shouted in a cracked voice. “No! Harry--Hary we have to tell her!” 

“No way!” Harry yelled, turning to her. 

“We have to, Harry, you can’t let her...what’s the point?!” 

Harry stared at her, disbelieving. Hermione began to cry weakly. 

“Well, well, well!” Umbridge looked disgustingly triumphant. “Little Miss Question-All is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!” 

“Er--my--nee--no!” Ron shouted through his gag. 

* * *

The sounds of the galloping centaurs and the blundering giant were growing fainter and fainter in the Forbidden Forest. As Harry listened to them his scar gave another great thorb and a wave of terror swept over him--they had wasted so much time. 

“Smart plan,” Harry spat, rounding on Hermione. “Really, really, smart plan. Was the part where the centaurs almost killed us too part of it? Sorry--don’t answer that. Where do we go from here?” 

“We need to get back up to the castle,” Hermione said faintly. 

“By the time we’ve done that, Cedric will probably be dead!” Harry shouted, kicking a tree. “And it’s all my fault! If I just--” 

“Harry, cut it out!” Hermione shouted. “That won’t help him. And if it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure they’re using him to get you there. They won’t kill the bait until they get whatever the bloody hell it is they want.” She took a deep breath, sighing. “Besides, we can’t do anything without wands. Anyway, Harry, how exactly were you planning to get all the way to London?” 

“Yeah, we were just wondering that,” a familiar voice from behind her said. 

Ron came into sight, followed closely by Gavin, James, Neville, Ginny and Luna. All of them looked a little worse for the wear, but all were looking rather pleased with themselves. 

“So,” Ron said, “any ideas?” 

“How did you all get away?” Harry asked in amazement, taking his wand from Ron. 

Ron grinned, “Gavin and James showed up--Kayla followed them but Gavin made her go back to Ravenclaw Tower after they got us free. Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, an Impediment Jinx. Ginny was brilliant. Anyway, we saw you heading into the forest out of the window and followed. Harry, what did you see in the fire? Did you contact the Order? Has You-Know-Who still got Cedric?” 

“Yes,” Harry’s scar gave another painful prickle, “I’m sure...I’m sure Cedric’s still alive but...there wasn’t anyone at Grimmauld Place. They’re probably out there looking for him but...by the time they find him it will be too late. And I have no idea how to contact them. It’s...it’s up to us. I can’t see how we’re going to get there to help him though.” 

They all fell silent; the problem seemed insurmountable. 

“Well, we’ll have to fly, won’t we?” Luna said, matter-of-factly. 

* * *

“Over here,” Harry said, leading the way to the battered telephone box and opening the door. Strapped diagonally across his back was one of the D.A. First Aid kit; he prayed he did not need to make further use of it that night. Earlier, at Hermione’s insistence, he had hastily swallowed a mouthful of the blue potion for nerve damage. “Come on!” Ron and Ginny marched in obediently; Gavin, James, Hermione, Neville, and Luna squashed themselves in after them. In the end, Harry barely fit. 

“Whoever’s nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!” 

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.” 

“Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger,” Harry said very quickly, “Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Gavin Afumba, and James Shafiq. We’re here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!” 

“Thank you,” the cool female voice said. “Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.” Eight badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins usually came out, Hermione handed the top most mutely to him. It read: 

HARRY POTTER

Rescue Mission

_Rescue mission..._

“The Ministry wishes you a pleasant evening,” the voice said as the box deposited them in the Atrium. 

There was no one around; it was eerily quiet, the only sound was the rush of water from the golden fountain. Harry sprinted as he led the others down the hall, towards the elevator, and as soon as the cool voice said “Department of Mysteries,” took off at a run again. 

Harry turned toward the plain black door. After months and months of dreaming about it, he was here at last...walking through...They were standing in a large, circular room. Everything in here was black including the floor and ceiling--identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls. As soon as the door they walked in closed, the walls began to spin, rotating around them faster and faster...then abruptly stopping. 

“What was that about?” James whispered fearfully. 

“I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in from,” Ginny said in a hushed voice. 

“Where do we go then, Harry?” Ron asked. 

“I don’t…” Harry trailed off, then swallowed. “In the dream I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lift into a dark room, that’s this one, and then I went through another door into a room that kind of...glitters? We should try a few doors,” he said hastily. “I’ll know the right way when I see it. C’mon.” 

They went through several doors, James marking each with a fiery X as they did, and eventually opened the door into a very large room. It was dimly lit and rectangular, and the center of it was sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet below them. In the center of the floor was a raised stone dais and upon this dais stood an ancient stone archway. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a fluttering, tattered black veil.

“Who’s there?” Harry scrambled down the benches one by one until he reached the bottom. “Cedric?” He approached the archway, drawn by the strangest feeling that there was something standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. 

“Let’s go,” called Hermione from halfway up the stone steps. “This isn’t right, Harry, come on, let’s go…” She sounded scared, even more so than she had in the room with the brains...yet Harry could not help feeling as though the archway held an odd kind of beauty about it. 

“Okay…” Harry did not move. There were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil. “What are you saying?” 

“Nobody’s talking, Harry!” Hermione said, now moving closer to him. 

“Someone’s whispering behind there…” he moved forward out of her reach, transfixed by the veil. “Can’t anyone else hear it?” 

“I can,” a soft voice beside him spoke, and Harry turned in surprise to see James, a distant look on his face. 

“I can hear them too,” Luna breathed, joining them around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. “There are people in there!” 

“Harry--everyone--we are supposed to be here for Cedric!” Hermione’s voice was strained now. 

“Cedric,” Harry repeated, still gazing at the continuously swaying veil, “Yeah…” 

A memory of Cedric slid into place unbidden in his brain; Cedric, captured, tortured, screaming, fighting, and here he was staring at this archway...He took several paces back from the dais and wrenched his eyes from the veil. 

“Let’s go,” he said softly. 

Once again, the walls of the circular chamber spun. The next door they tried was locked; it resisted _Alohomora_ and everything else they tried. But the door they tried after that…

“This is it!” Harry knew at once. 

Clocks were gleaming from every surface, large and small. Harry led them onwards, sprinting frantically past rows of bookcases and desks, through another door…They were there, they had found the place: high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. Harry shivered; the room was very cold. Edging forward, peering down one of the shadowy aisles, he could not see the slightest sign of movement nor hear anything. 

“You said it was row ninety-seven,” Hermione whispered. 

“Keep your wands out,” Harry commanded, leading them forward. 

They passed row eighty-four...eighty-five...Harry was listening hard for the slight sound of movement, walking along very quickly, but Cedric might be gagged now, or else unconscious, _or...he might be already…_

 _No,_ he cut off the voice of doubt firmly, grazing a hand over the teardrop gemstone suspended by magic in the center of his pendant. 

From somewhere distant, the location not quite locatable in the echoey chamber, a pitiful whimper of pain sounded out. Harry’s jog morphed into a desperate sprint. 

“Ninety-seven!” Hermione whispered. 

“He’s right down at the end,” Harry said, his mouth dry. “You can’t see properly from here…” And he led them forward, between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed slightly as they passed. “Anywhere here...really close...Somewhere about...here?” 

They reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight. There was nobody there at all, even the earlier sounds were gone, all was echoing, dusty silence…

“He might be near,” Harry whispered hoarsely, looking around desperately. “Or maybe…” 

“Harry?” Hermione said quietly again. 

“What?” he snarled, rounding on them. Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it, as if at a loss for words. 

“I don’t think Cedric is here, mate,” Gavin said softly, stepping up beside her. 

Nobody spoke. Harry felt sick looking at them, he had led them here...but he could not understand why Cedric was not there! He had to be here. This was where he, Harry, had seen him...if he wasn’t here, where was he? Could they ever find him? They had to! He had to be here!

Harry ran up and down the rows, desperately, but there was no sign of Cedric, nor any hint of a struggle...

“Harry?” Ron called. 

“What?!” 

“Have you seen this? It’s...it’s got your name on it.” 

Harry stared at him, then moved a bit closer, looking at the orb Ron was indicating…

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord_

_And ~~(?)~~ Harry Potter _

“Harry, I don’t think you should touch it,” Hermione said sharply as he stretched out his hand. 

“Why not?” he said, struck by a feeling of recklessness, of desperately once to--just once--take his fate into his own hands. “It’s something to do with me, isn’t it?” 

“Don’t, Harry,” James was looking at him intently. 

“It’s got my name on it,” Harry insisted. 

He closed his fingers around the dusty surface. He had expected it to feel cold, but it did not, it felt as though it had been lying in the sun for hours. Harry was struck suddenly by an odd feeling of impending consequence; he got the sense that something dramatic...something important...was about to happen. He lifted the glass ball down from itself and stared at it. 

Nothing happened. 

And then, from right behind them, a drawling voice said, “Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me.” 

Black shapes were emerging out of thin air all around them, blocking their way left and right; eyes glinting through slits in hoods, a dozen wand tips were pointing directly at their hearts. One of them, Lucius Malfoy by the voice, was standing slightly to the front, hand outstretched. 

“I’m sure Ceddy would appreciate it, Potter,” a sing-song female voice said beside him. 

Another figure cloaked in black walked out of the shadows to stand beside him, pulling off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed Bellatrix Lestrange’s face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow. She was not alone. 

Held in a chokehold, gagged, practically dragged along...was Cedric. Blood dripped continuously from somewhere on his left arm. Tremors wracked through his body. His face was pale with fear, so much so that he half resembled a ghost. It didn’t look like he could walk or stand if the Death Eater was not holding him. Tears were streaming down his face and his eyes…

When his eyes met Harry’s, filled with a terrible fear, a desperate longing, and so much _hurt_...Harry felt his heart shattering. And he felt the shards dig into his soul, cutting like daggers. It took every ounce of self control he had to not rush forward immediately. 

“To me, Potter,” the drawling voice of Lucious Malfoy repeated. 

Harry could not break his boyfriend’s gaze. “Cedric…” Distantly, he heard his voice break. 

Several of the Death Eaters laughed. “The Dark Lord knows your weakness! The Dark Lord always knows!” the harsh female voice cried out. 

“Always,” Malfoy echoed softly. “Now, give me the prophecy, Potter.” 

Cedric was shaking his head, the movement so slight but so...defiantly deliberate. 

“No.” Harry spoke almost without realizing it. “Where is your boss anyway? Too much of a coward to step out of the shadows?” 

Again, the Death Eaters laughed.“The Dark Lord has better matters to attend to,” Lucius Malfoy drawled. “Did you really think he was here? You need to learn the difference between life and dreams, Potter.” His voice turned flat. “Give me the prophecy or we start using wands.” 

The female Death Eater cackled, stroking Cedric’s head, “Not that we haven’t had our fun already, isn’t that right, Ceddy?” 

_She hurt him._ It was clear in the tone of her voice, in the way Cedric flinched away involuntarily from her touch. 

Blinding white-hot rage poured through every fiber of Harry’s soul. Abruptly he rose his left hand high, holding the grey orb of glass in the air. “If you lay another finger on him,” he growled. “If you attack any of us, I will smash this. I don’t think your boss will be too pleased with that, will he? ” He turned slightly to the figure beside him, James. “Don’t do anything,” he muttered. “Not yet…” 

The Death Eaters were silent. Harry would not think what to do but keep talking, his eyes never leaving Cedric. He had to get Cedric away from them somehow, safely, and he could not let the prophecy fall into Death Eater hands. He could feel the others pressing in tightly next to him. He was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank. 

“So,” Harry said shakily, “what kind of prophecy are we talking about? How come Voldemort wants it?” 

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses. 

“You dare speak his name?” Bellatrix whispered. 

“Yeah,” Harry said, maintaining his grip firmly on the glass ball, raising his wand to point at her head, “Yeah, I--I dare speak his name.” 

_Because he’s pathetic,_ he wanted to shout. _He tortures children and rules through fear. You are nothing but a slave to him, less than human._ But he could not, would not risk antagonizing her further when she had Cedric at wand point. 

_“STUPEFY!”_

“No!” 

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand, Malfoy had moved to deflect it, but before he could Gavin had stepped in, conjuring a shield in front of Harry. The stunner hit a shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered; releasing two pearly white ghostly figures, fluid as smoke. 

Lucius Malfoy was shouting at the Death Eaters not to attack. Harry asked again about the prophecy, desperately filling up time, stealing glances every moment to look at Cedric. 

“Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, are those about whom it was made.” 

“And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?” 

“About both of you, Potter. Haven’t you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?” 

Harry stared into the slitted eye holes through which Malfoy’s gray eyes were gleaming. He kept Malfoy talking to distract him. 

“Let him go,” Harry said flatly, turning to stare at Bellatrix Lestrange as an idea began to take form. 

“Oh, not so fast Potter…” Lucius said. 

“Let him go,” Harry said, “and when he’s halfway to us, I’ll roll you the prophecy.” 

They were silent for a long moment, then Lucius Malfoy nodded, jerking his head towards Bellatrix. She pouted, pulling Cedric closer and whispering something into his ear, and then abruptly shoved him forward. 

Cedric stumbled, trempling, and fell to his knees, struggling. The Death Eaters laughed, a strange sound echoing off the hall of prophecies. Cedric looked up, and met Harry’s eyes. Silently, with every fiber of his being, Harry willed Cedric to fight. 

_I can’t lose you. Please. I know you can do this._

Cedric stood up and, slowly, as if every step was a marathon, began to walk forward. Harry’s grip on his wand tightened as he struggled not to run to his soulmate. When Cedric was about a third of the way towards them, Harry’s muscles tensed to run. 

“NOW!” he yelled. 

Cedric dropped to the ground, curling into a ball and shielding his head with his hands. Seven different voices behind him bellowed _“REDUCTO!”_ just as Harry, with all his strength sprinting forward, shouted, _“PROTEGO!”_ Seven different curses flew in seven different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit. The towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor…

Harry ran, the charm protecting him. He was only a handful of steps away when another voice rang out. 

_“Crucio!”_ Bellatrix Lestrange shouted, almost gleefully. 

Cedric screamed. Harry saw red. 

_“Stupefy!”_ Harry’s wand cut through the air, followed quickly by a flash of red. It did not hit her head on but collided with an unstable shelf, forcing her backward, forcing her to release the curse. 

Harry’s arms wrapped around Cedric, and he wanted nothing more than to hold him close forever, but they had to move. With a swish of his wand, the gag was gone. He pulled him desperately to his feet, thankful Cedric somehow still had the strength to stand. Practically carrying him by his right arm, which he draped around his shoulder, Harry moved forward. 

“Har..” Cedric muttered, his voice slurred and hoarse. 

“I’m here,” Harry said through gritted teeth, still clutching his wand and the prophecy, hobbling them forward. “Don’t you dare die on me. I need you.” 

The others reached them at that moment. Wordlessly James fell in beside him, taking Cedric’s other arm over his shoulder and helping him practically carry Cedric forward. Gavin was there a heartbeat later, shielding them and taking point as neither Harry nor James could move about as freely. 

Glass was raining down all around them. Spellfire shot through the semi darkness, accompanied by the occasional physical blow. The Death Eaters were close, sending curses after them. They were all yelling, there were cries of pain, thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed upon themselves, weirdly echoing fragments of the Seers unleashed from their spheres. 

All that was important was the warm, breathing body of Cedric pressed into his side. James and Harry sprinted onwards, wishing for all the world they could stop as groans of agony escaped Cedric. At times, Harry was not sure his boyfriend was even conscious. 

Perhaps that was a blessing. 

At some point they had separated from Ron, Luna, and Ginny and lost them. Harry could only hope they were still...fighting. He, James, Gavin, Cedric, Neville, and Hermione eventually made their way to a sort of office, and they were quickly followed by the Death Eaters. Dueling erupted around them. 

“WE’VE GOT HIM!” The Death Eater nearest Harry yelled, “IN AN OFFICE OFF--” 

_“Silencio!”_ Hermione cried. 

_“Petrificus totalus!”_ Gavin shouted, as the second Death Eater raised his wand. His arms and legs snapped together and he fell forward, face down onto the rug at Harry’s feet, stiff as a board and unable to move at all. 

The Death Eater Hermione had just struck made a sudden slashing movement from his wand, followed by a streak of purple flame. It passed right across Hermione’s chest; she gave a tiny “oh!” and then crumbled onto the floor, unmoving. 

“HERMIONE!” 

The three of them, Harry, Cedric, and James fell to their knees besides her as Neville crawled rapidly toward her from under the desk, his wand held up in front of him. Slowly, they all gathered around her. 

_Don’t be dead!_ Harry thought desperately, _Merlin, Hermione, we can’t do this without you!_ His hand brushed against her, warm...definitely still alive…

Cedric let out a small groan of pain. As the fighting raged around them, as James and Gavin and Neville guarded their backs, Harry swung the bag off his shoulders. Cedric took the potions he pressed around his lips, his hands shaking. _The dark blue one for the Cruciatus, a Wiggenweld Potion, a Pepper Up..._

“Where are you hurt?” Harry said softly, wanting desperately to help. 

“Wrist,” Cedric said through gritted teeth, his left arm trembling violently as he held his hand out, palm outwards. 

Harry was nearly sick. The flesh of Cedric’s wrist was burned horribly, down to the bone. The wound oozed liquid every moment, weeping. His fingers curled in slightly, as if stiff, the joints replaced with tight metal. His hands shaking, Harry traced a circle gently around the edge of the wound with his wand. 

_“Oblivisci Dolorem.”_ His voice broke as he incanted. Even as the magic settled into Cedric’s pain, he felt something in him crack, and tears began to escape him. The mark of their love...the mark of everything Harry had come to associate with life and happiness and goodness...was gone. Shakily, he began to wrap the wound in a bandage from the pack. A gentle hand rested on his shoulder. 

“It will grow back,” James said softly, taking action and conjuring a tight sling for Cedric’s arms. “Harry, it’s a magical mark--it will grow back. We’re going to get him out here. We’re going to survive this.” 

“Ternal…” Cedric muttered, the weak smile he had given Harry vanishing. 

“What?” Harry turned to his boyfriend. “Cedric, don’t talk, save your entergy!” 

“ ‘ternal!” He insisted, weakly weaving a hand towards Hermione. “In...ternal. Gold potion. ‘Mione...needs...it. Now.” 

James, understanding Cedric’s words pointed his wand towards the pack, even as spellfire began to rain down around them again. Gavin turned, defending them. 

_“Accio Stabilization Draught!”_

A triangle shaped vial of thin golden liquid popped out of the bag and flew to his hands. He passed it to Neville, spinning in the next heartbeat to deflect a curse. Neville pressed it to Hermione’s lips, letting it dribble down her throat. Weakly, she coughed, but did not wake. 

Steely resolve entered Harry’s mind. They were going to make it out of this. They had to. 

“Neville, everyone, we’re not far from the exit,” Harry whispered. “We’re right next to that circular room...If we can just get you all across it and find the right door before any more Death Eaters come, I’ll bet you can get Hermione and Cedric up the corridor and into the lift...Then you can find someone...Raise the alarm…” 

“And what are you going to do?” Cedric said, his voice sharper than it had been before, though still hoarse and pained. 

“I’ve got to find the others,” Harry said. “Cedric, can you stand?” 

“If I have to,” he said flatly. “Does anyone have a spare wand?” 

“Here,” Gavin said, tossing him a plain, straight wand of light gray wood. “Got this off one of them.” 

“It’ll have to do,” Cedric muttered, pushing himself to his feet. 

He swayed and Harry moved to catch him, “Cedric, you have to get out of here.” 

“If you think for a second in hell,” Cedric muttered, “I’m leaving you idiots, you’re wrong. You came here...because of me. I’m not leaving you; I’m going with you. I can fight. Help me get to my feet.” 

“Cedric, you were--!” Harry protested. 

_You were tortured._ The unspoken words seemed to hang in the air. 

“Yeah,” Cedric growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. “And that bitch is out there. She doesn’t get the satisfaction of beating me down, of taking me out of this fight. Help me to my feet. We’re _all_ getting out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're in the thick of the battle now!  
> A huge thank you, as always, to Tree Spiral!


	18. Collapsing Inwards

**Chapter 18: Collapsing Inwards**

Cedric was falling down stone step after stone step having stumbled at the top, bouncing on every tier with a fresh explosion of pain until at last, with a crash that knocked all the breath out of his body, he landed flat on his back on the sunken pit bit. The whole room was ringing with the sound of Death Eater jeers. He was overcome by an overwhelming, all encompassing, wave of exhaustion. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and take a very, very long nap. 

A pang of worry for the others shot through him. Last he saw Gavin was knocked unconscious, Cedric could only hope he was going to be alright. Part of him yearned to run his friends, but he had to trust James could keep them safe. Harry was out there in that room somewhere, and at just that moment Cedric closed in on the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. 

“Let--let the others go, and I’ll give it to you!” Harry shouted desperately. 

_ Harry is fighting. Harry needs me beside him. Harry came here for me. I can’t let him fight alone. I  _ won’t _ let him fight alone!  _ With a groan, fighting back all the pain of the last day, Cedric forced his good hand underneath him and pushed. 

Again, the cold laughter of Death Eaters echoed out. 

He got his feet underneath him, rose to his full height, gripping his good hand tightly around the wood of the wand that had been handed to him. It did not sing with the same warmth of his old wand...the wand Bellatrix had snapped...the wand he had bought when he was eleven...but it would do. It had to. 

His left hand hung limply in the sling. The spell Harry had cast was powerful, between it and the nerve damage he could not feel anything at the end of his arm. That was at least better than earlier. 

“You are not in a position to bargain, Potter,” Lucius Malfoy drawled. “You see, there are ten of us and only one of you...you’re all alone...or hasn’t Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?” 

“He’s not alone!” Cedric shouted, stepping out from the shadows of the dais to where the others were. Harry looked back at him, his expression panicked, and Cedric did his best to give Harry a weak smile. “Harry’s never alone! He’s still got me! He has people who love him fighting beside him--and he always will!” 

“Cedric, no!” Harry was shouting, crying. “Get out of here!” 

_ Never, Harry. Never in a million years will I leave you to fight alone.  _

Cedric raised the wand in his hand and fought.  _ “STUPEFY!” _ A death eater fell to the ground, another raised his wand. _ “EXPELLIARMUS! IMPEDIMENTA! STUPEFY!” _

_ “PROTEGO!”  _ A shield appeared before Cedric, catching the spellfire of a curse, erected by Harry. For just a moment the battle fell away, Cedric’s gaze connected with Harry’s, and he nodded. 

Side by side, they fought. 

_ “STUPEFY!” _

_“EXPELLIARMUS!”_ _  
__“STUPEFY!”_

Spellfire flew through the dim darkness of the chamber and then--

_ “Crucio!”  _

_ No.  _

A scream tore it’s way out of Harry’s chest. He stopped mid spell, falling to his knees, twitching in agony. Cedric turned, horrified. 

_ “Incarcerous!”  _

Black, thick, ropes tied around him, preventing him from moving or casting or fighting. And still, Harry screamed. Cedric struggled, cursing the Death Eaters with every word he knew, but he was...helpless. Again. Unwillingly, Cedric began to move, levitated towards the Death Eaters. 

Bellatrix Lestrange ran a hand along the side of his face, “Oh Ceddy…” Abruptly, Harry’s screams dissipated. “I’m so close to destroying you, cracking your mind open, aren’t I? Let’s see how long you last...unless Potter wants to give us the prophecy…” 

“DON’T YOU GIVE IT TO THEM, HARRY!” Cedric roared, beside himself with rage. “DON’T--” 

_ “Crucio!”  _

Cedric screamed. Distantly, he felt the ropes vanish, leaving him to writhe and twitch in agony freely. At this point...what was the pain at this point? Nothing he hadn’t felt before. Nothing he hadn’t endured before. And now Harry was  _ right there _ \--he had something to fight for.. 

“That was just a taster,” Bellatrix said happily, leaving Cedric sobbing and shaking. “Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy or watch your... _ wittle boyfriend  _ die painfully.” 

Harry was on his feet...extending his hand to Malfoy...the prophecy clutched in it…

“Harry...no…” Cedric muttered, his voice weak. 

Then, high above them, two more doors burst open and six more people sprinted into the room: Sirius, Remus, Cedric’s Mom, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley. They were clearly furious. 

Cedric sobbed, for the first time believing they might actually make it out of there alive. 

Malfoy turned and raised his wand, but Sirius had already sent a Stunning Spell right at him. Cedric did not wait to see whether it had met its mark, he was already on his feet, lunging towards the dais...halfway in between, he collided with Harry. His good arm encircled his soulmate as Harry held on to him tightly, pulling him towards the other side of the stone.

The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were raining spells down upon them as they jumped from step to step towards the sunken floor. Harry and Cedric made it to relative safety, the other side of the dais. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked weakly, looking over at him. Cedric stared, wanting desperately to reassure Harry that yes, he was fine...and finding he could not lie. A harsh bark of bitter laughter left Harry and he sagged, leaning against the stone. “What a stupid...bloody...question…” 

Cedric smiled weakly, and the next moment he was leaning in, wanting desperately to kiss Harry--

The stone floor between them exploded as a spell hit it, leaving a crater right where they had stood seconds before. Both scrambled away from the spot, then a thick arm came out of nowhere, seized Harry around the neck and pulled him upright, so that his toes were barely touching the floor, he was gasping for breath…

“Give it to me,” growled a voice, “give me the prophecy--” 

_ “Stupefy!”  _ Cedric shouted. 

The Death Eater keeled over backward and Cedric caught Harry, supporting him even as his legs shook with the effort of staying on his feet. Harry was leaning against him and Cedric was leaning against Harry in return...he could not honestly say who was supporting who…

Harry reached up, framing Cedric’s face in his hands, and captured his lips quickly with his. It was a heartbeat that lasted an eternity. Sirius lurched by, dueling furiously with a Death Eater, and they broke apart, and a moment later they were fighting again. 

Dolohov raised his wand again,  _ “Accio prop--”  _

Sirius hurtled out of nowhere, rammed Dolohov with his shoulder, and sent him flying out of the way. Now the two were dueling, their wands flashing like swords, spellfire flying from their wand tips. Cedric stuck to Harry’s back, sending stunners after the other Death Eaters as Harry joined Sirius in attacking Dolohov. 

“Nice one!” Sirius shouted, forcing both Cedric and Harry to the ground as a pair of Stunning Spells flew toward them. “Now I want you to get out of--” 

They both ducked. A jet of green light narrowly missed Sirius; across the room Cedric saw Tonks fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling from stone step to stone step, and Bellatrix...Cedric watched as her gaze drifted over the battle to finally rest on them, on him, and triumphantly she ran back into the fray, towards them. He felt the lingering tremors, somewhat lessened by the potions he had taken earlier, return--felt the panic tightening like a noose in his chest. 

_ I’m afraid of her,  _ he realized, with a feeling a disgust.  _ She did get to me, break me.  _

Bellatrix had barely made it down three of the stone steps, however, before she was forced to stop. Cedric’s mother, Thea Diggory, was sending spell after spell after Bellatrix, dueling with a ferocity that was terrifying to behold. Her red curls, some grayed with the steel of age, had escaped their bindings and flew free around her, like a cloud of fire. It was one thing to know his mother had been a Combat Healer in Voldemort's first rise, it was quite another to see her fight first hand. 

“Harry, Cedric, take the prophecy and run!” Sirius yelled, dashing out to join Thea. Whatever happened next was obscured from Cedric’s vision; Kingsley swept between them, battling with Rookwood. Another stray jet of green light shot towards them, struck the stone beside Cedric’s head. 

“C’mon!” Harry shouted, grabbing Cedric’s arm. 

They had only made it up a few of the stairs, however, and then, out of nowhere, a man lunged at them. Cedric, who by this point was fighting just to remain standing, stumbled, crashing into Harry and sending them both tumbling backwards. 

“The prophecy! Give me the prophecy, Potter!” Cedric watched in horror as Lucius Malfoy pressed the point of his wand between Harry’s ribs, knowing that even though he was close he wasn’t close enough to attack Malfoy before Harry could. 

“Argh! No, get off! Cedric--Catch it!” 

The spun sphere of grey glass flew through the air into Cedric’s hands; he cradled it to his chest and scrambled backwards. It felt strangely warm in his hands, as if it radiated internal heat. Cedric saw Malfoy raise his wand to point at him instead of Harry, fumbled with his wand, lacking two good hands…

_ “IMPEDIMENTA!”  _ Harry roared, placing himself between Malfoy and Cedric, protecting him. 

Malfoy was blasted off his feet. As Harry scrambled towards Cedric, helping him clamber shakily back to his feet, he looked around and Malfoy smashed into the dais on which Sirius and Bellatrix were now dueling. Moments later Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry and Cedric again, but before either of them could react, Remus had jumped between them. Spellfire split the darkness, red, green, and purple light flashing between the two wizards. 

“Harry, Cedric, get out of here!” 

_ “Somnum Mortis!”  _

Cedric felt his blood go cold. He recognized that curse from the studying he had done for the apprenticeship; it was under the obscure curses that were nearly classified as death curses. It required medical attention within minutes if the victim was to survive. 

Orange spellfire struck Remus squarely in the chest, and he crumpled to the ground. Malfoy raised his wand again to strike…

_ “STUPEFY!”  _ Harry shouted, and the force of his spell sent Malfoy flying again. 

Cedric stumbled and the prophecy dropped from his hands, and, before either of them could catch it, bounced off Harry’s foot. It flew some ten feet to their right and smashed on the step beneath them. As both of them stared at the place where it had broken a pearly-white figure with hugely magnified eyes rose into the air. It’s mouth was moving, but, amidst the chaos of the battle, could not be heard. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry muttered. 

Both of them knelt by the prone, unmoving figure of Remus. He was no longer breathing. Cedric was desperately feeling for a pulse with his free hand, only distantly aware that Harry was saying something. When he found it, it was weak, slow, and rapidly failing. Within minutes, Cedric knew it would be gone. 

“He’s alive,” Cedric managed to say, his voice trembling. “But he won’t be if we don’t get help soon. Where is my mom?!” 

_ We need a healer!  _

“Uh,” Harry was turning around desperately, looking for her. Finally his gaze rested on the dais...where Thea was dueling violently. Sirius and Thea were back to back, up against three Death Eaters, holding their own but barely just. “Cedric she’s…” 

_ Preoccupied at the moment.  _

“Fuck,” Cedric muttered, drawing the wand of the Death Eater Gavin had given him earlier. The moment he sent a bit of magic into it to test it, he knew it wouldn’t work for this spell--even assuming as exhausted as he was Cedric could perform it. “Harry, I can’t do healing spells with this.” 

Wordlessly, Harry passed him his wand of holly and took the wand of the Death Eater. Pushing himself to his feet, brandishing the stolen wand, Harry placed himself between Cedric and the battle. 

Cedric turned back to Remus, who lay unmoving. He knew what he had to do. This man before him was like a father to Harry--beyond that, this man before him had informally adopted Cedric as his own son. The Life Spark spell would be brutal...but it was Remus’s only chance at survival. For several minutes, Cedric would have to pump magical sparks of his own energy into Remus’s body. He tried to tell himself he could do this...but he knew Remus’s chances of survival were slim. 

_ “Tribuo Vitae!”  _ Cedric incanted digging the point of Harry’s wand into Remus’s sternum. Remus twitched slightly, his body flexing as if struck by electricity, then lay still.  _ “Tribuo Vitae! Tribuo Vitae! Tribuo Vitae!”  _

Cedric channeled memories, emotion, into the repetitive incantation of the spell. He pictured countless moments at Grimmauld Place, channeled the love he felt for the family that had formed there. He saw in his mind’s eye Remus at the beginning of the summer, saving him from a Death Eater in the very first attack. Now it was his turn to save Remus. 

* * *

Harry stood between his boyfriend, one of his adoptive fathers, and the battle raging around them. It was chaos. Upon the dais Sirius and Thea dueled side by side against the Death Eaters surrounding them. As he watched, one of the Death Eaters fell, crashing off the dais.

Harry saw Sirius duck a jet of red light from Bellatrix: he was laughing at her. “Come on, you can do better than that!” he yelled his voice echoing around the cavernous room. The second jet of light collided at the last moment with a shield erected by Thea--Harry shuddered to think what would have happened if she wasn’t there. 

“Watch your--” 

_ “Avada kedavra!”  _

From Bellatrix’s wand a jet of green light split the air between the dueling pairs and struck Thea squarely in the chest. It took only a heartbeat, and she was gone. She fell to the ground, unmoving. 

Dead. 

Thea Diggory was dead. 

_ No...she can’t be... _

It was impossible to process. Harry stared, wanting desperately not to believe it, to see her rise from the ground again. It hurt worse than a physical wound. It felt as though someone had set fire to Harry’s lungs, burnt the oxygen out of the air. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, could barely  _ think _ . Blood was roaring in his ears, deafening him, the world around him was spinning out of control. He staggered, felt himself scream. 

Behind him, Harry heard Cedric’s spellcasting falter, his voice breaking. He’d seen it too. 

Anger swept over him, and somehow anger was easier and Harry welcomed it. Before Harry knew what was happening he was running forward, wand in hand, every fiber of his being determined to destroy that witch. She hurt Cedric. She killed Thea. Bellatrix Lestrange would  _ pay _ . 

But Bellatrix was already running, Harry heard her triumphant yell, he had to catch her and--

“HARRY!” Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him back. Sirius had beaten the other Death Eater, who now lay prone on the dais next to...Thea. Harry stared, shaking, at eyes that had been once so filled with life and were now empty of anything. “There’s nothing you can do--” 

“I’ll kill her!” Harry screamed, tears choking in his throat. 

“It won’t bring Thea back, Harry!” Sirius said, his voice breaking as he struggled with Harry. “Revenge will do nothing!” 

A moment later, the door to the chamber opened. Framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Harry looked at him numbly, wanting to rejoice that they were saved but...it was too late. Thea was already gone, Remus was dying...Bellatrix was getting away…

Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realized he was there. There were yells; another one of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore’s spell pulled him back easily. Harry watched this blankly. 

There was movement going on around them, pointless bustling, the flashes of more spells. To Harry it was meaningless noise, the curses flying back at them did not matter, nothing mattered except getting to the witch who had caused so much pain to  _ his family.  _ Sirius dragged Harry away from the stone steps, back towards Remus and Cedric. 

Sirius faltered as he beheld the scene before them; Harry stopped fighting. 

“ _ Tribuo Vitae!”  _ Cedric growled, Remus went rigid, convulsing as magic poured into him. Again and again and again Cedric incanted the spell, even as tears streamed down his face. Remus was hovering in the space between life and death, and Cedric was fighting with every fiber of his being to keep him on the side of the living. 

“What…” Sirius trailed off, looking on with an expression of abject horror. 

Cedric didn’t pause in the incantation for a moment. 

Numbly, Harry realized Sirius was holding two wands.  _ Thea’s wand. A healer’s wand.  _ Gently he pried the Hawthorne wood from Sirius’s fingers and fell to his knees beside his soulmate, holding it out. 

Cedric looked at the wand for a moment, for the first time falling truly silent, if only momentarily. Harry’s holly wand fell from his hand and he reverently took the wand from Harry’s. Then, without a word, he turned back to Remus. “ _ Tribuo Vitae!”  _ This time the spell seemed stronger. 

Just as Harry closed his hand around his own wand there was a loud bang and a yell from behind the dais. Harry saw Kingsley, yelling in pain, hit the ground. Bellatrix Lestrange turned tail and ran as Dumbledore whipped around. He aimed a spell at her but she defelected it. She was halfway up the steps now-- 

“Harry--no!” Sirius cried out, but Harry had already ripped himself free from his godfather’s slackened grip. 

“SHE KILLED THEA!” Harry bellowed. “SHE HURT CEDRIC! I’LL---I’LL KILL HER!” 

Every swirling emotion he had battled throughout this ordeal was collapsing inwards like a star going supernova; condensing to a singular, focused point. There was only rage-- _ hatred.  _ He closed his eyes for a moment as he ran and he saw Cedric’s terrified, pained expression, on the verge of tears as that witch held him in a choke hold. He blinked again and he saw Thea, dying. Visages of pain burned into the lids of his eyes, memories that would haunt his nightmares and waking moments for years. 

The need for revenge was all consuming. 

* * *

Cedric watched, helpless, as Harry broke away from Sirius’s grasp, running after Bellatrix. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to run after them to join Harry in destroying  _ her  _ or stop Harry from getting himself killed. But he couldn’t move. His mother’s wand was in his hands, the wand of a healer, a fighter, and he had a life to save. 

His mother. She was gone. She was dead. Another sob. 

_ No. No. No. No. No. Please no. No. No. No. No... _

Sirius stood there motionless for a moment, turning helplessly between the rapidly disappearing figure of his godson and the convulsing figure of Remus. Distantly, Cedric realized what Sirius was feeling. Remus was Sirius’s soulmate--the fact that the two of them had been trying to keep some distance out of fear wouldn’t change that--and he was dying. But Sirius could do nothing for Remus now, and he could save Harry. 

It was all too much. The world was pulling at him in too many directions, Cedric felt like he might come apart at the seams. 

“ _ Tribuo Vitae!”  _ Cedric spoke through gritted teeth, trying not to choke on his own tears “ _ Tribuo Vitae!  _ Go!  _ Tribuo Vitae!  _ After!  _ Tribuo Vitae!  _ Him!  _ Tribuo Vitae!”  _ Momentarily Cedric turned to the man, pleading with his eyes. “Please!  _ Tribuo Vitae!”  _

“Is he… will he…” Sirius’ face was contorted with pain. 

“I don’t know!  _ Tribuo Vitae!  _ ” Cedric said honestly. 

The spell seemed to be working, despite his exhaustion, but he wouldn’t know for several minutes if Remus’s heart would regain a rhythm that could sustain life. And until then, Cedric was the rhythm. He couldn’t break away for a second. He was channeling every last bit of magic he had left into saving Remus. 

There was an ocean of pain within Cedric, struggling to break free. Something that felt absolutely impossible yesterday had happened, and it had come at a moment where he was totally unprepared to handle it. He could not allow himself to feel the pain, not fully. The loss of concentration would kill Remus, and Cedric wasn’t honestly sure he would survive the shock of the totality of that ocean of sorrow. 

_ “Tribuo Vitae!”  _ Cedric’s hand, even grasped so tightly around his wand that his knuckles turned white, was shaking. Physically, he was exhausted. Every muscle in his body screamed to just curl up in a ball and sleep for a decade, but he couldn’t do that. 

And once again Harry was in danger and the world was holding Cedric back from protecting him.  _ But it’s Bellatrix,  _ a tiny voice spoke tauntingly at the back of his head.  _ You really think  _ you  _ could protect him? You couldn’t even protect yourself. And now Harry thinks he had to fight her  _ for  _ you. All of this, because of you. Pathetic.  _

_ “You’re going to die, Ceddy,”  _ Bellatrix had whispered in his ears.  _ “And so will little Harry.”  _

_ No! No he can’t! I can’t lose him too. And Remus, we need him. We can’t lose anyone else. Guilt won’t save Remus, won’t help Harry. I have to do this.  _

_ “TRIBUO VITAE!”  _ Cedric growled the incantation, incanting through tears. “GO!  _ Tribuo Vitae!”  _

Sirius, for one more moment, hesitated, torn between Remus, possibly dying, and his godson, rushing headlong into a fight he could not win alone, and then he took off at a sprint, tearing across the battlefield after Harry. Around them, the battle was beginning to wind down as Dumbledore and the Order rounded up the last of the straggling Death Eaters. 

Cedric’s battle was far from over. 

_ “Tribuo Vitae!”  _

* * *

Harry forced his way out of the lift before the grilles were fully open and looked around. Bellatrix was almost at the telephone lift at the other end of the hall, but she looked back as he sprinted toward her, and aimed another spell at him. He dodged behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren; the spell zoomed past him and hit the wrought gold gates at the other end of the Atrium so that they rang like bells. There were no more footsteps. She had stopped running. He crouched behind the statues, heart racing, listening intently. 

His muscles were trembling with the lingering tremors of the Cruciatus curse and exhaustion, but he had no choice but to keep fighting. He couldn’t even imagine how Cedric must have been feeling. 

_ “Come out, come out, little Harry!”  _ she called in her mock-baby voice, which echoed hollowly off the polished wood floors. “What did you come after me for? Are you here to  _ play?  _ Oh I do hope you’re as much fun as dear Ceddy was! I thought you were here to avenge  _ her _ !” 

“I am!” Harry bellowed. 

“Aaaah...do you  _ love _ Ceddy, little baby Potter? Did you love _ her _ , little baby Potter!” 

Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. The memory of Cedric’s face, broken open with pain as he watched his mother die, flashed before him. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed “ _ Crucio!”  _

Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as he or Cedric had--she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing. Harry dodged behind the golden fountain again; her counterspell blasted the head off the golden wizard. 

“Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?” she yelled. She had abandoned the mocking baby voice now. “You need to  _ mean  _ them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain--to enjoy it--righteous anger won’t hurt me! I’ll show you how it’s done, shall it? I’ll give you a lesson--” 

_ You hurt Cedric!  _

Harry threw himself from out behind the fountain, wand in hand, a curse flying from his wand. It shot through the air, and sailed uselessly past her head just as she raised her wand and spoke. 

_ “Crucio!”  _

A scream escaped him as he ducked back down again behind the fountain. A moment later the pain dissipated. He curled up into a ball, whimpering, trembling. 

“Potter, you cannot win against me!” she cried. He could hear her moving to the right, trying to get a clear shot of him. He backed around the statue away from her, crouching behind the centaur’s legs. “I was and am the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant. I learned the Dark Arts from him! You are just a little boy! I made your Ceddy scream and I’ll make you scream too!” 

“Fuck you!” Harry had edged right around to where the goblin stood and now took aim at her back as she peered around the fountain for him.  _ “Stupefy!”  _

_ “Protego!”  _

The jet of red light, his own Stunning Spell, bounced back at him. Harry scrambled back behind the fountain, and one of the goblin’s ears went flying across the room. 

“Potter, I am going to give you one chance!” Bellatrix shouted. “Give me the prophecy and I may spare your life!”   
“Well, you’re going to have to kill me, because it’s gone!” Harry roared--and as he did pain seared into his forehead. His scar was on fire again, and he felt a surge of fury that was quite unconnected with his own rage. “And he knows!” A bitter laugh, mad enough to rival Bellatrix, escaped him. “Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it’s gone! He’s not going to be happy with you, is he?” 

“What? What do you mean?” she cried. 

“The prophecy smashed when I was fighting Malfoy!” Harry shouted. “What do you think Voldemort’ll say about that, then?” 

His scar seared and burned…

“No!” she screamed. “It isn’t true, you’re lying--MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED--DO NOT PUNISH ME--” 

“Don’t waste your breath!” Harry yelled, his eyes screwed up again against the pain in his scar, the sight of Thea dying burned into his mind’s eyes, tears fighting their way down his face. “He can’t hear you from here!” 

A new voice, cold and high echoed against the walls of the Atrium. 

“Can’t I, Potter?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah. That happened. And I left it on a cliffhanger...  
> I really am kind of mean sometimes, aren't I? Sorry about that. 
> 
> A huge thanks, as always, to Tree Spiral!


	19. Dying. Living?

**Chapter 19: Dying; Living?**

_ “AVADA KEDAVRA!”  _

Harry had not even opened his mouth to resist. His mind was blank, his wand pointing uselessly at the floor. 

_ I’m going to die.  _

But the headless golden statue of the wizard in the fountain had sprung alive, leaping from its plinth, and landed on the floor with a crash between Harry and Voldemort, arms extended in a shield. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung out its arms, protecting Harry. 

“What--?” Voldemort trailed off, staring around. “Dumbledore!’ 

Harry looked behind him, his heart pounding. Dumbledore was standing in front of the golden gates. Powerful magic--terrible magic--rippled through the air as the two of them dueled.

“There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” Voldemort snarled. 

“You are quite wrong.” 

Moments later Voldemort was gone, as suddenly as he had appeared, disappearing into the water of the fountain as nothing but a shadow 

“MASTER!” Bellatrix screamed. 

“HARRY?!” Harry turned to see his godfather, his face contorted with pain and panic, looking around desperately. 

Sure it was over, sure Voldemort had decided to flee, wanting nothing more than to run to Sirius, Harry made to run out from behind his statue guard, but Dumbledore bellowed, “Stay where you are, Harry!” 

For the first time, Dumbledore sounded frightened. But Harry looked around in confusion, the battle appeared to be over, what was Dumbledore worried about? 

And then Harry’s scar burst open. He knew he was dead: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance...

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature’s began. There fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape--

And when the creature spoke, it used Harry’s mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move…

_ “Kill me now, Dumbledore…”  _

“NO!” 

He could not tell who had shouted. Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again…

_ “If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…”  _

_ Let the pain stop,  _ Harry thought.  _ Let me die...End it...Death is nothing compared to this… _

“NO!” The same person from before shouted and he felt himself pulled into someone’s arms, held tightly and rocked as the agony ripped through every fiber of his being. “You can’t have him!” 

_ Sirius.  _

_ Cedric. Ron. Hermione. Remus. Thea… _

_ Love. Warmth.  _

He was loved, and he was capable of loving. Harry was not the lonely, unloved boy in the cupboard. There was reason to live, reason to fight. Of course, there was still pain. There would always be pain. But together they were stronger; together it was bearable. 

_ You're the weak one... _ Harry thought.  _ And you’ll never know friendship or love. And I feel sorry for you.  _

And, as Harry’s heart filled with emotion, the creature’s coils loosened, and the pain was gone. It left him cold, shivering as if he lay on ice. Harry melted into the embrace of his godfather, ragged sobs tearing their way out of his chest. 

“Shh, Harry,” Sirius’s voice was soft. “It’s alright now...I’ve got you…” 

* * *

Cedric was running as fast as his feet could take him even as his muscles were aching and trembling; he tore his way out of the elevator before it had opened entirely…

The Atrium was full of people. The floor was reflecting emerald-green flames that had burst into life in all the fireplaces along one wall, and a stream of witches and wizards were emerging from them. Sirius was helping Harry to his feet, Dumbledore was standing by, the emotions on his face unreadable…

Cedric was across the distance between them in seconds, wrapping Harry in his good arm, pulling him close even as he sagged with exhaustion. A moment later, Sirius pulled them both into a hug. Harry was crying against his chest, Cedric was crying even as he buried his face in Harry’s hair. 

Earth and peppermint...blood…

_ Mom.  _

She was gone, and the weight of that was starting to settle on his shoulders as reality. And it hurt worse than any physical pain he had endured. 

“He was there!” shouted a scarlet-robed man with a ponytail, who was pointing at a pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall. “I saw him, Mr. Fudge, I swear, it was You-Know-Who, he grabbed a woman and Disapparated!” 

“I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too! Fudge gibbered, looking terrified. “Merlin's beard--here--here!--in the Ministry of Magic--great heavens above--it doesn’t seem possible---my word--” 

“SIRIUS BLACK!” someone shouted hysterically. “THAT’S SIRIUS BLACK!” 

“He’s trying to get Harry Potter!” 

All around them wizards and witches in robes were scrambling forward, wands out and pointed at Sirius. 

“NO!” Harry screamed, his voice edging on hysteria, wrenching away from Cedric. “NO--YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” 

“Step away from that man!” Fudge was shouting, pointing a pudgy towards Sirius. 

“Cornelius!” Dumbledore’s voice boomed. “You will not be taking this man back to Azkaban!” 

“He is a criminal! A mass murderer!” 

“He has not been given a fair trial!” Dumbledore said flatly. “Take him into custody if you must, but he will  _ not  _ return to Azkaban. You  _ will  _ call an emergency session of the Wizengamot to try him, immediately.” 

Stiffly, Fudge nodded, gesturing to the Aurors. 

“He’s innocent!” Harry screamed. “You have to--You can’t!” 

“Harry,” Sirius’s voice was strangely empty as he gently rested a hand on his godson’s shoulder. There was something deeply pained beneath the forced evenness. “Let it go. Dumbledore will protect me. We’ll see each other again soon--I  _ promise _ .” 

“No…” Harry’s voice was barely a whisper. Cedric pulled him close with his one good arm, knowing both of them were on the verge of collapsing. 

Sirius tried to smile and failed, he was crying too...and then he was gone, taken away by the Aurors, disappearing in a pillar of green flame...and the moment he was gone Cedric realized he had not told Sirius that Remus survived and someone had Apparated him to Hogwarts to recover. 

A lot of people were shouting at once again. Fudge wanted them to tell him everything, but Dumbledore insisted on sending Harry and Cedric back to Hogwarts. A Portkey was handed to them. 

Cedric stared at it for a moment, suddenly gripped by a strange, paralyzing terror…

“It’s okay,” Harry said softly, squeezing tighter with the arm wrapped around Cedric’s waist. “I’ve got you.” 

* * *

Harry’s feet hit solid ground in Dumbledore’s office; his knees buckled a little but he managed to keep him and Cedric upright long enough for them to maneuver to the stone stairs that led up to Dumbledore’s desk and sit down. For a long moment they were silent, Harry holding Cedric in his embrace, cradling him in his arms, wishing for all the world there was something--anything--that could be done to hold back the horror of what had happened. 

And then Cedric fell apart. 

Cedric never fell apart. He was the rock of certainty in the stormy seas of Harry’s life, a protector of all that was good and whole in the world. But Cedric had been deeply hurt, he was shaking uncontrollably with the after tremors of the Cruciatus. He had endured the darkest of nightmares. 

There they were, alive on the other side of the nightmare.  _ At what cost?  _

Sirius was in Ministry custody. Remus almost died. Thea...

The first pained sob was quiet, muffled against Harry’s chest. The potions Harry had given him in the middle of the battle were wearing off, Cedric was trembling almost violently. Cedric clutched at Harry’s shirt with his good hand, desperately fisting his fingers into the fabric, clinging to him like he was afraid Harry might turn into smoke. In moments, Cedric was weeping. 

Harry screwed his eyes shut against the tears, exhaustion dragging at his soul. Unbidden, a memory floated to the surface of his mind; Thea, smiling softly--motherly--handing him a cup of tea, telling him…

A memory of the summer that was once painted in emotions of love and happiness and warmth had turned bitter and dark. She was gone, and even then, that seemed unthinkable. Someone so strong, so unshakable, didn’t just... 

But she had. Thea Diggory was dead. She was gone. 

“Cedric…” Harry’s voice broke even as he searched for some, any word of comfort to give him. “Cedric, it’s okay now. You’re safe. I’m safe. We’re safe. I’ve got you.” He was talking through the tears, positive he could feel shards of his heart ripping their way out of his chest. 

Harry knew if he ever faced Bellatrix Lestrange with a wand in hand again she would die. 

“I was so afraid,” Cedric whimpered softly. “I thought I’d never see you again. Harry, you could have--” 

“And I would have,” Harry said firmly, breaking apart only to rest his forehead against Cedric’s and stare intently into his eyes. “That’s a choice that belongs to me.” 

“Harry, she’s--” Cedric sobbed, and the pain his voice deepened the ache in Harry’s heart. 

“She’s gone,” Harry said softly, his voice trembling. 

Harry’s gaze drifted down to Cedric’s arm, suspended in a hastily conjured sling that would surely dissolve at any moment.  _ Cedric is still in pain,  _ he belatedly realized. Cedric was still shaking horribly and his wrist...  _ Cedric needs medical attention.  _

“C’mon,” Harry said, standing himself up through sheer force of will, still crying, “To the Hospital Wing. No arguments.” 

Numbly, Cedric let him pull him up and shakily, they made their way down the corridors of Hogwarts. It was dark, silent, eerily peaceful and calm. It didn’t seem quite right, that everything there would be so... _ normal _ with how horrific the night had been. 

It seemed to take them forever to reach the double doors of the Hospital Wing. Harry could feel the pain of exhaustion, of physical wounds, of...grief dragging him down with every step. He couldn’t even imagine how Cedric was feeling. When they finally did reach the Hospital Wing, Harry was supporting the majority of Cedric’s weight and was sure any moment he would collapse. 

The Hospital Wing was far from empty, and everyone looked like that had been through hell. Ron was lying in the nearest bed, his arms wrapped in bandages. Next to him was Hermione, who was still unconscious but looked but much improved from the last time Harry had seen her. Gavin was in the next bed, sleeping. James was slumped against the bed, also asleep, and someone had rested a blanket over his shoulders. Ginny, Luna and Neville were sitting nearby, quietly conversing. Ginny had her arm around Luna’s shoulders. 

Remus was in a bed across from them, unconscious but clearly alive. Harry felt a small coil of tension in his chest loosen--Cedric had succeeded then. Remus would live. 

Tonks and the other Order members were not present, but that made sense, they were likely to have been taken to St. Mungo’s. 

Harry saw Amos from across the room, sitting in a hospital chair with his head resting in his hands, beside a hospital bed...a hospital bed that was not empty but was covered completely by a white sheet...a hospital bed that held a patient who would never recover...and felt himself stiffen. The man’s face was streaked with tears, he seemed to have aged decades in hours, his eyes were staring out at the world with a haunted light. He knew what had happened. 

And Harry felt guilt blossoming and festering in his chest. Maybe if he had just tried harder to get a message to Sirius sooner. Maybe if he had just fought harder. Maybe if he had just...not pulled Cedric, and by extension Thea, into his life...then, maybe, she would be here. 

Amos was the first to see them. He was on his feet and across the room in a heartbeat, wrapping them both in a fiercely tight embrace, as if he was afraid they might turn to smoke or ash before him, crying softly into Harry’s shoulder. 

“Thank Merlin,” his voice was cracking, choking on tears, “Thank Merlin you’re both okay. You’re safe now boys. You’re safe.” 

And Harry felt something in his heart dissolve, and he let it. 

Madam Pomfrey was on them a second later, muttering to herself as she transfigured one bed to be larger and commanded Harry and Cedric to lay down. Amos helped them, and Harry knew they would have likely collapsed on their own. Harry stayed close to Cedric, curling around him and holding his good hand tightly. 

Both of them accepted the various potions she handed them wordlessly, too tired to object. When she asked how long they both had been held under the Cruciatus, Harry had an estimate for himself but Cedric…Madam Pomfrey ended up just giving him the highest dosage she could. 

_ Merlin, Cedric, how did you survive? I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.  _

It came time to undue the bandage that had been hastily wrapped around Cedric’s wrist. The burn looked horrible, Harry didn’t even want to contemplate how it had been created. At the sight of it, Harry nearly puked. 

Madam Pomfrey looked grim. After minutes upon minutes of spell casting, once the wound looked about two weeks old, she asked Cedric to try moving his fingers. It pained him, and the movements were horribly stiff. The tremors were ever present. 

Cedric was crying again, and so was Harry. He wasn’t actually certain at any point they stopped. 

“If it is still your intention to pursue a career as a Healer, Mr. Diggory,” Madam Pomfrey said quietly, resting a hand on Cedric’s shoulder. “You should know I will be resubmitting my recommendation with the highest marks possible and an advisement they waive the interview requirement. From the accounts of your friends, I have no doubt you saved Miss Granger’s and Mr. Lupin’s lives. You have proven yourself many times over.” 

Madam Pomfrey left them with strict instructions to rest. Amos came by to sit with them, until the Matron herded him to a bed. Dumbledore came by at one point, asking to speak to Harry, and Harry was sure if he hadn’t dropped the request a moment later he would have gotten a couple wands pulled on him. The Headmaster’s gaze shifted to Harry and Cedric and rested there, his eyes uncharacteristically sad. 

“Is Sirius okay?” Harry asked flatly, too tired to be even remotely polite. 

“I have assured his safety,” Dumbledore said quietly, drifting over to them. “Harry...Cedric..I know how you are feeling.” 

“No, you don’t,” Harry said, suddenly angry again and so  _ tired  _ of being angry.

“There is no shame in what you are feeling,” Dumbledore continued. “On the contrary...the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.”

“Our greatest strength is it?” Harry said, his voice shaking as he pushed himself to his feet. Cedric didn’t make a move or a sound in protest. “You haven’t got a clue...You don’t know…” 

“Harry…” Cedric’s voice was quiet, strained. 

“This pain is part of being human.” 

“Then I don’t want to be human,” Harry muttered, returning the bed and interlacing his fingers again with Cedric’s. 

“Albus, my patients need to rest,” Madam Pomfrey said, her voice flat and stern. “I must insist you leave.” For a moment it looked like he might fight, but then the Headmaster was gone. 

Knowing human contact helped, needing to be as close to Cedric as possible, Harry lay down, drew Cedric against his chest, wrapped his arms around him tightly. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, a desperate promise, almost a prayer-like oath. “We’re safe now. I’m here.” 

Thea was gone. Harry’s brain was just truly beginning to process that; a week ago the idea she would not be at Grimmauld was as absurd as someone suggesting one of the mountains surrounding Hogwarts was just going to disappear. He felt hollow at the thought, like someone had scooped some of the joy out of his heart. It wasn’t until that moment--until she was gone--Harry truly began to realize he had looked towards Thea Diggory for something he had never truly remembered having...a mother. 

Cedric was badly hurt. He had endured the darkest of nightmares, and though he had survived, it had left its mark. Harry wondered if he would ever regain proper movement in his left hand, or find any way to lessen the tremors...would Cedric ever be able to play piano again? 

Remus nearly died. The memory of him unconscious, straining horribly as the spell Cedric used to keep him alive tore through his body, was among the ones that would never leave Harry. He could have very easily not have survived. 

Tonks, Mad-Eye, Shacklebolt, Ginny, Neville, Gavin, James, Ron, Hermione, and Luna...so many hurt. So many they almost lost. 

Sirius was taken captive. Sirius was out there somewhere, alone, held by people who saw him as nothing but a criminal. Did he even know Remus had survived? Surely Dumbledore would protect him, right? Harry didn’t think he could handle losing his godfather too--not after everything that had happened. It wasn’t fair. 

None of this was remotely fair. 

_ This is war,  _ a quiet, unshakable thought announced to his mind.  _ The Second War has begun.  _

Harry didn’t have the energy to hold up the dams of his mind against the floods of emotions accompanying this. Familiar anxiety and dread, buzzing insatiably at the edge of every thought. Regret and guilt, stabbing into him like a physical blade. Horrible, deep sorrow eating out from the center of his being like a necrotic darkness, sinking roots into every part of his life.

And in that moment, he wished nothing more than for the ability to take away the pain from those he loved. 

“Harry?” Cedric’s voice was quiet, edging on sleep brought about by sheer exhaustion. 

“I’m here, Cedric,” Harry said immediately, squeezing his hand. 

“Love you,” he mumbled, turning into Harry’s side tighter. “ ‘m glad we’re alive.” 

“Love you too, always,” Harry said softly, his breath catching on tears.

Cedric was not broken, and Harry would yell at anyone--including Cedric--who said as much. Machines,  _ things _ , break. Cedric was very much alive; if nothing else, the pain he was undoubtedly in was testament to that at least. Cedric survived. He was not broken, he was wounded, and wounds only heal with time. 

And Harry had to believe they were capable of healing, because if they weren’t he had no idea how they were going to go on living. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally reached the end of the big battle. Now to deal with the fallout...  
> A huge thank you, as always, to Tree Spiral!


	20. The Flame Lives On

**Chapter 20: The Flame Lives On**

Cedric could think of only one word to explain existence:  _ exhaustion.  _ Last night even Harry’s presence hadn’t been enough to help him sleep peacefully; he had awoken from a nightmare of shattering glass and burning fire, Harry’s arms around him. Try as he did, he could not get back to sleep, and he hadn’t wanted to wake Harry. 

The tremors were worst in his hands, but they were not limited to his hands. Madam Pomfrey had him drinking handfuls of vials every few hours, some potions he didn’t even recognize. One of them was a Purification Draught, Bellatrix had left a lingering dark curse on his wrist that was impeding it from properly healing. His left hand remained stiff and painful to move. 

And all of the physical pain was nothing compared to the empty feeling in his chest. 

His dad had left earlier that morning.  _ “Stay strong, m’boy,”  _ he had said, pulling Cedric into a hug.  _ “We’ll see each other again soon. If you or Harry need  _ anything,  _ owl me or contact me at Grimmauld place using Harry’s mirror. I’ll see you at the end of term. The...the memorial will be a week after that, after the trial. Stay strong, Cedric.”  _

And, as his dad had turned to walk away, Cedric had desperately wanted to ask him to stay. Maybe it was because his dad leaving with his mother, to plan her memorial...made what happened real on some level it hadn’t been before. Maybe it was just because he was afraid his dad wouldn’t come back. 

But, despite all this, Cedric had insisted on accompanying Harry to Dumbledore’s office. There were conversations that simply could not be avoided, Cedric could sense there were important matters that had to be discussed. He wasn’t going to leave Harry alone for that, despite the pain he was in...or maybe because of it. 

Cedric knew, on some base level, that he would be dead without Harry. Thinking of him had carried Cedric through the nightmare, had given him the strength to endure even as the Death Eaters snuck into the Department of Mysteries and Bellatrix got bored while they waited. And when there seemed to be no chance of contacting the Order, Harry had come after and rescued him. And when they somehow survived and made it back to the castle, Harry…

Harry had been there to pick up the pieces as Cedric’s heart shattered. 

“Please sit down,” Dumbledore said quietly. It was more a request than an order. 

“Sirius,” Harry said flatly, neither him nor Cedric having moved. “Is he okay? Is he safe? When will you be able to get him out? Can we see him?” 

“Harry, Sirius is being detained by direct order of the Minister. I have spent a considerable amount of time in the past twenty four hours guaranteeing they will not execute him. Beyond that, at the moment, there is only so much I can do,” Dumbledore said, his voice soft. “There were many who wanted to see him back in Azkaban; Fudge is desperate. I managed to get Sirius a trial at the end of the month, the day after term ends. Before then he is allowed no visitors.” 

“That isn’t good enough!” Harry said weakly, his voice breaking. Cedric felt his fingers tighten around Harry’s hand. “Sirius doesn’t even know Remus is okay. He’s innocent, why--this isn’t right!” 

“No,” Dumbledore agreed. “I swear to you Harry, I will do my best to ensure your godfather’s safety. The matter of his trial is among the many we must discuss this morning. I had hoped to avoid putting Sirius in this position, the outcome is far from certain. Please, sit down.” 

“He’s...innocent.” Harry’s voice fell to a hoarse whisper. “We can’t lose him too. We need him.” 

_ Mom. Thea.  _ A hole ripped in the fabric of their worlds, of their hearts, that none of them could hope to fix. Most days, a wound Cedric couldn’t figure out how he had survived--he had survived it though. All of it. 

Harry was very insistent about reminding him of that. 

Cedric gently put a shaky arm around Harry, nudging him towards the desk. “C’mon Harry,” he said heavily. 

Harry turned to him, his gaze concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice tight. “We can go back if…” 

Inwardly, Cedric grimaced. Everyone seemed to treat him like he was made out of glass these days, even Harry. He didn’t know what to tell them, the truth?  _ No, no I’m really not but I can’t be not okay because then... _ The truth would hurt them all, maybe Cedric most of all... _ I can’t be weak...I have to be strong… _ Whoever had first thought stringing together the question, “Are you okay?” was a bloody moron in Cedric’s opinion. 

Weakly, Cedric managed the slightest of smiles. “I’m fine, Harry. Let’s sit down.” 

“Harry, of course, cannot return to Privet Drive; this summer both of you will be returning to Grimmauld Place,” Dumbledore began, looking between the two of them. “Order members will be in charge of escorting you from King’s Cross, and, if all goes well, Remus, Amos, and Sirius will join you that evening.” 

“Wait, I’m not going to the trial?” Harry blurted out indignantly. 

_ Neither of us are?  _ Cedric thought with surprise. He had been ready to take to the stand to defend the man. 

“No,” Dumbledore shook his head. 

“Why?” Harry demanded flatly, clearly as angry as Cedric felt. 

“What happened last night, at the Ministry, will most likely be dragged up. Not only is Fudge wanting to connect Sirius to Voldemort, this is no longer a trial of Sirius’ past innocence. We have to convince the Wizengamot of his current allegiance, his actions during the battle are indicative of such. I thought it prudent to avoid having either of you testify on what happened. Pensieve memories and potentially Veritaserum will be used.” Cedric was, once again, annoyed. 

Harry was downright seething. “I can testify for Sirius better than anyone! At least let me--” 

“Let both of us,” Cedric said, his voice strangely steady. “It’s our choice to make.” 

Dumbledore looked between them both, his expression sad. “Harry, Cedric, I know how you must be feeling--” 

“You really don’t.” 

“Guilt,” Dumbledore’s voice was quiet. “But none of what happened was either of your fault. What you went through, what you are going through--” 

“It’s our choice,” Cedric interrupted, startled that he was emotional enough to cut the Headmaster off. “You really don’t get it. From the moment I touched that Portkey, I entered a fight--we entered a fight. We’re still fighting it. You don’t understand what happened last night, not really.” 

There was unspoken weight behind Cedric’s words that seemed to linger in the air. Part of it was what was lost, the grief he knew he still had to face. Part of it was the anxiety and uncertainty that accompanied Sirius’ fate being up in the air, and part of it was the topic everyone seemed to skirt around with Cedric. 

_ Yeah, I was tortured,  _ Cedric felt like muttering.  _ Kind of hard to forget.  _

Harry was looking at him, a mixture of love, admiration, and concern in his eyes. Cedric did his best to muster a flicker of a smile for his boyfriend. 

“I owe you both an apology,” Dumbledore said finally. “You are not nearly as angry with me as you ought to be. Once again, I have failed you, and once again you have both endured horrors beyond what anyone should. Now you have lost Thea, Sirius’ freedom hangs in the balance, and if it were not for the bravery both of you showed last night, I am afraid we may have lost many more. More was asked of you than should have ever been.” 

In the wake of Dumbledore’s words, there was silence. The sun was shining over the grounds of Hogwarts, turning the surface of the Black Lake into a mirror of shining light, streaming in through the windows to light the office with a warm light. There was hardly a handful of clouds in the summer sky. It seemed so unfair that the weather could carry on so merrily in spite of what had been lost. 

“But it’s not going to get any better, is it,” Cedric said bitterly, looking back at the Headmaster. Unconsciously he reached out with his good hand for Harry, and it was only a heartbeat before a steady hand closed around his own. “Harry can’t escape this, and I can’t...after everything, I could never leave him to face this alone. We’re testifying at that trial, whatever it takes.” 

Dumbledore inclined his head slowly, “I do not believe stopping you to be within the capabilities of the power I wish to exercise. I will discuss plans for your guard at a later time. Please, be careful.” For a long moment he was silent, as if struggling with a great burden he had just remembered existed. “Mr. Diggory, you are correct in your assessment. Harry cannot escape this. From the moment Voldemort went to Godric’s Hollow, that was fact.” 

And then Dumbledore told them everything: the nature of the wards at the Dursleys--the justification for leaving Harry in such a place for so many years--wards which Dumbledore was afraid would soon fail as Harry’s definition of family and home expanded far beyond the boundaries of what Privet Drive could ever be for him; the reason Dumbledore, fearing he would see Voldemort staring back at him from Harry’s eyes, had kept his distance that year; the truth...about the prophecy. 

_ Neither can live while the other survives,  _ Cedric thought as he turned to look at his boyfriend, feeling certain he was going to be sick.  _ Oh, Merlin, please no. I can’t....He’ll kill you. I can’t lose you, too. _

“‘Neither can live while the other survives?’” Harry echoed the end of the prophecy as it faded to silence. His voice was strained, pulled tight like the cord of a bow. “One of us has to kill the other.” 

“Yes.” 

Cedric leaned back in his chair heavily, distantly aware of the tremors in his hands intensifying. The reality, the crushing weight of it, was solidifying like stone around him, making it difficult to even breathe. 

“Hey,” Harry’s voice was steady, loving, if a bit strained at the edges. “Cedric, hey. I’m here. I’ve got you, right? We’ve got each other. We’re going to get through this.” Weakly, Cedric nodded, tightening his hand around Harry’s. 

When Harry and Cedric finally turned back to Dumbledore, somewhat more composed, his voice was gentle in a way it had not been before. “I do hope we are able to prove Sirius’ innocence at the trial. After everything, you both deserve to live in a home filled with the people who love you. We can discuss these matters again later, both of you need rest.” 

Neither of them argued with that. 

* * *

After a late breakfast in the kitchens--Dobby was in tears, overjoyed to see them--Harry and Cedric made their way back to the Hospital Wing. Though he was trying to hide it, Harry could tell Cedric needed another dose of the potions Madam Pomfrey had prescribed. Besides that, they had friends to check on. 

Not more than a handful of seconds after they had opened the doors, Harry and Cedric found themselves wrapped in a bone crushing embrace. Both James and Gavin were awake, and from the strength of their hug, fully on the mend from the injuries they had sustained the night before. 

“You’re alright?” Cedric exclaimed as they broke apart, looking his friends over. 

“Yeah,” James’ faint smile abruptly vanished. “And you two? Ced...your mom.” 

Cedric swallowed, and when he spoke his voice was tight. “Yea…” 

“Harry?” 

Harry turned to see Hermione, now sitting up awake, smiling at him. Leaving Cedric with Gavin and James, who were pulling him back into another hug--this one gentler--he walked over to her and sat on the edge of her bed. There was a line of potion vials on the nightstand that Hermione was undoubtedly taking for the foreseeable future, a physical reminder of the hell they had gone through together. For a moment they were both silent, Hermione looking at him sadly. 

“Oh, Harry…” Hermione said softly, her voice breaking with tears as she pulled him into a hug. 

All the anxiety for his friend’s safety Harry had had to push aside during the battle washed over him again, and before he knew it he was crying into his best friend's shoulder. It was all too easy to close his eyes and remember the sight of her unconscious, barely breathing. After what had happened, it was impossible to forget...how fragile life really was. It could have been any one of them that was lost. 

And, thinking of the war that lay ahead, Harry felt cold dread settling over his mind like a dense fog. How many more funerals would there be before the end of the war? There weren’t really words for dealing with obstacles of this magnitude, all they could do was hold each other closer. 

Sometime later, Ron came back to the Hospital Wing. His arms were still bandaged but it didn’t seem like he was in too much pain. He pulled Harry into a hug without a word of greeting, tight enough that it seemed he was afraid Harry might disappear. 

The six of them gathered around Hermione’s bed, as Madam Pomfrey didn’t want her moving about yet. Ron settled onto the bed next to Hermione, and James and Cedric transfigured four of the Hospital chairs into more comfortable loveseat sofas. James, Gavin, Ron, and Harry started a chess tournament. No one really talked about what had happened, but no one could forget it for a heartbeat. 

Remus still hadn’t woken up. 

* * *

Both of them agreed, almost without speaking about it, that if they tried to sleep apart that night neither of them would get any rest. Neither of them had the energy to ask if anyone would care or wonder what their dormmates would say. 

After that morning, they had braved their respective houses, reassuring everyone they were alright. Harry had been anxious every second in Gryffindor tower, constantly focusing on the pendant to remind himself Cedric was okay. After all that, he wasn’t surprised when the Room brought them back to  _ their  _ room--the room with the four poster bed, hung in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor colors. 

They collapsed, Harry holding Cedric to his chest gently. 

“This isn’t how I thought this year would end,” Harry said softly. 

“Yeah,” Cedric said sharply. “I don’t even...I’ve been stressed about that stupid interview for so long. That seems so unimportant now.” 

“Hey,” Harry said, resting a hand against Cedric’s face. “It’s not unimportant. We’ll figure it out, there’s no way they wouldn’t give you a second shot when you’re ready. We need people like you doing jobs like that.” 

“People like me?” 

“People who care,” Harry smiled sadly. “Strong, brave people, willing to make a difference. That’s the only way we’re going to get through this.” 

“You really think we can get through this?” Cedric asked, his voice uncharacteristically bitter. 

“I do,” Harry said simply, nodding. For a time they were silent, and Harry lost himself in Cedric’s grey-blue eyes. There was pain there, unimaginable pain, pain Harry would have given anything to take away. 

Cedric’s injured wrist was no longer bandaged, but the new skin was rippled, tough, and unnaturally shiny in places. The wound was close to being physically healed; the soulmark had even begun to return, the ink light where the flesh had been seared away. But magically, emotionally, even physically, that wound, like so many, went deeper than skin level. Harry could tell, as much as he clearly tried to hide it, that it was still hurting Cedric. A lot. 

“Cedric?” Harry asked softly, running a finger gently through his boyfriend’s hair. He held up his left wrist, the only soulmark between the two of them covered with red fabric. 

“Yeah?” Cedric’s voice was slightly sleepy. 

“I want this gone,” Harry said, his voice steadier as his confidence evened out. “Something to be said for tradition, the coverings made sense...before everything that happened. But now, all the worst people who could hurt us with this know.” 

“We’re not getting married, and some people will find it unsightly,” Cedric remarked, smiling slyly. “Although, one day…”

“We’ll be hyphenating our names Potter-Diggory,” Harry smiled back. 

“I’m quite fond of Diggory-Potter…” Cedric trailed off, chuckling softly. 

The levity in the air was forced, bittersweet with everything laying beyond it. But it was needed, in the same way drowning people need oxygen. Harry didn’t think they could survive if every moment was heavy discussions about...the war. War was the only word for it.

And, if they were going to face death so regularly, Harry was done being discrete, done hiding in any way, shape, or form. 

“I’m serious, Cedric,” Harry said softly. 

A moment later, Cedric drew his mother’s wand...Cedric’s wand now. Hawthorn wood rested gently against the cloth tied around Harry’s wrist. Cedric smiled, “You’re sure.” 

Harry nodded, pressing a kiss against Cedric’s forehead, “Of course I’m sure.”

_ “Diffindo.”  _

The red fabric fell away, revealing the black ink of the triquetra and Cedric’s initials. Harry’s heart swelled with love at the sight, his chest filled with the knowledge that he wasn’t alone. Somehow, that made everything easier. 

Harry gently ran his hand through Cedric’s hair and captured his lips with his own. The familiar blossoms of warmth, the lingering explosions of feeling,  _ burned _ . It burned in the way the kiss of the sun burns after a winter of darkness and cold. It burned with passion. 

Cedric leaned in, deepening the kiss. Desperate for every inch of it, any space between them too much, Harry pulled him closer, and even then, he...yearned for more.  _ We need this,  _ a quiet voice said in his mind.  _ We need each other like we need air.  _

“I want you,” Harry said, surprising himself with the confidence in his voice, even as he was left breathless as they broke apart. As he spoke, he was increasingly sure it was the truth. “Cedric, I want you in every way possible. No one else.” 

“Harry…” Cedric trailed off, his voice caught between passion and apprehension. “It’s just--” 

He cut him off with a kiss, gentle yet firm. “I know,” Harry said, smiling sadly. “We need time to heal. It’s not the right moment for us, but when it is...I’ll be here. Always.” 

“I love you so much,” Cedric sighed, resting against Harry’s chest. “I just...I can’t...she’s  _ gone _ , Harry,” Cedric's voice broke and Harry pulled him closer, held on tighter. “I’m not sure of anything, except us right now. I don’t want what happened, what we’re going through, to mar your first time.  _ Our  _ first time.” 

“Okay,” Harry said quietly, knowing he would have waited for the rest of his life if Cedric asked. They fell into a comfortable, intimate silence at that point, content to simply be together. Eventually Cedric drifted off and Harry quickly followed. 

* * *

“You’re going to die, Ceddy,” the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange whispered in his ears. “And we’ll call your boy along soon enough. Tell me, do you think my lord will be merciful? I rather hope not.” She leaned over him, smirking. “But you and I have so much time to get to know each other before then.” 

_ You can’t have him!  _ Cedric wanted to scream.  _ Get away from me!  _ But, as he opened his mouth to talk, no word of any language emerged. He tried to move, to do anything to fight back, and found he could not move his limbs an inch. He was helpless, weak, panicking...it didn’t seem like he could get any air in his lungs...

Bellatrix just laughed. 

A round, smooth stone was pressed against his wrist. At first it was just barely, but then it was growing warmer...burning...he was screaming...every nerve in his body was on fire...was he dying? Was that what death felt like? 

_ I don’t want to die! _

“Cedric!” Harry’s voice, edging on desperation. “Cedric, you're safe. Love, I’m here. I’ve got you. Wake up!” 

Cedric became aware of his surroundings slowly, realized that he was not trapped in the dark stone room, felt Harry’s arms holding on to him tightly...but could not banish the reverberation of the memory of pain. He still felt...fragile, like his emotions were made of paper thin, hollow glass, like he might shatter at any moment…The ocean of sorrow was washing over him now, and he felt as though he might drown if Harry let go for even an instant. 

_ “I’m going to break you,”  _ a voice-- _ her  _ voice--was whispering in his ears, echoing off the caverns of his mind.  _ “And then I’m going to break him, too.”  _

_ No...please...Merlin, have mercy… _

He couldn’t breathe, every fiber of his being was screaming to run, blood was rushing in his ears, he was shaking, sobs were tearing their way out of his chest, he couldn’t  _ breathe.  _

“Cedric!” Harry was holding him close, and it might have been painfully tight if that weren’t the only thing Cedric was sure was really a sign they were still alive. “Cedric, you have to breathe. Breathe with me, Cedric. In,” he forced a lungful of air into his body, “out.” He forced it out. “In, out.” 

_ In, out...In, out...In, out.. _

Even behind the wall of Hogwarts, even with Harry right there, even as he slowly began to pull himself out of the tangled thorns of panic, Cedric didn’t feel safe. Something deep within him was still screaming for him to run. But he knew there was nowhere they could run to escape this forever. 

Harry was bound by fate to fight and survive or die trying. 

_ “Neither can live while the other survives…”  _

In the near darkness of the room, warmed and lightened by the embers of the fireplace, Cedric could only focus on Harry’s presence next to him and try to remind himself they survived. Harry’s heartbeat under his ear sounded with a steady beat that ran in stark contrast to his own racing pulse. Harry’s fingers were interlaced through his own and his thumb was rubbing a small, soft circle across the back of Cedric’s hand. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry’s voice was gentle, not insisting or asking for any more than what was willingly given. 

_ Yes,  _ a part of Cedric was almost screaming to be heard.  _ Yes, I need to talk about it and I trust you and I want to talk about it with you. It’s too much to remain unspoken, the words have too much weight for me to bear them alone, silently.  _

“No,” Cedric said flatly. 

“Okay,” Harry said gently, “what do you want? How can I help?” 

“Just...stay,” Cedric said, hating how small his voice felt. “Just hold me until things start to make sense again.” 

“I’m here,” Harry had been repeating that like a mantra, “I’ve got you.” 

Somehow, Cedric found sleep again that night, and mercifully, it was dreamless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I had intended for there to only be 20 chapters, that has changed. There will be at least 2 more chapters, and possibly a short epilogue. But just because we near the end of this arc of the story does not mean this series is ending!   
> A huge thank you, as always, to Tree Spiral


	21. Leaving Hogwarts

**Chapter 21: Leaving Hogwarts**

Neither Cedric nor Harry was about to return to the Great Hall for meals just yet; they took breakfast in the Hospital Wing around Hermione’s bed. Ron was sitting next to her on the bed, and Harry and Cedric were situated at the foot of it. Various comfortable seats had been transfigured by the Seventh Years around the bed. Ginny, whose mended ankle was held in a magical brace, was curled up on a loveseat with Luna; Neville was situated in an armchair; and James and Gavin were sharing a sofa with Kayla curled up against Gavin’s side. 

Earlier, Umbridge had occupied a hospital bed across from them, after Dumbledore had strode into the Forest to rescue her. He had emerged without a scratch on him, though the same could most certainly not be said of Umbridge. Harry tried to feel sympathetic, and could find very little room in his heart for sympathy for someone who had hurt Cedric. She hadn’t been there long, Dumbledore had her taken to St. Mungo’s quickly, and while she was there she had still been hysterical. 

Now Hermione was reading out loud from the  _ Daily Prophet,  _ if Harry was being honest he was really only half-listening to her. 

“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Returns...Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name has returned...report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban...remain vigilant...Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy...Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening...Mass Murderer Sirius Black believed to be in custody, to stand trial (see page ten for more on Sirius Black)...Albus Dumbledore...Meanwhile the Boy Who Lived and his soulmate, soon-to-be Hogwarts graduate Cedric Diggory--”

“Course they’d drag you two into it somehow,” Gavin muttered. 

“Harry’s the ‘Boy Who Lived’ again now though, isn’t he?” Ron said, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. “Not maniacs anymore, eh?” 

There were still welts on his arms from the brain tentacles, but thanks to Gavin’s quick reflexes, it was not nearly as bad as it could have been. Harry remembered a conversation with Cedric third year, that felt like a lifetime ago, in which Cedric had said having an older student around might help with the trouble they kept getting into. Cedric had been right, and Harry shuddered to think what the battle might have been like without James and Gavin. 

“Yes, they’re very complimentary about you both now and how you stood up to the slander,” Hermione said, scanning down the article. “Hmm...they seem to forget to mention the fact that it was them doing all the ridiculing and slandering though..” 

She winced slightly and put a hand to her ribs; Ron turned immediately, his expression concerned. The curse Dolohov had used on her, though less effective than had it been cast aloud, had still caused significant damage. Madam Pomfrey had, after Cedric’s descriptions of the potions he had included in the D.A. first aid kits, (and after reprimanding them for not telling her why they had been stealing from her stores so she could have properly helped them) remarked that Cedric probably saved Hermione’s life too. Still, Hermione was going to be taking a variety of potions for the days to come. 

Belatedly, Harry realized he had zoned out over part of the conversation. 

“So who's the Divination teacher now?” Hermione said. “Is Firenze staying?”

“It looks like both he and Trelawney are going to teach,” Ginny said. 

“The whole subject’s useless if you ask me, Firenze isn’t a lot better anyways,” Ron muttered. 

Hermione scowled at him, “How can you say that, after we’ve just found out that there are real prophecies? Speaking of which, Harry, did you ever figure out what  _ the  _ prophecy even said?” 

Harry’s heart began to race. They had not yet told Ron, Hermione, James, Gavin, or anyone what the prophecy had contained, only that it had smashed while they were fighting the Death Eaters. He did not know how to tell them, his family of friends, that his involvement in this fight was inevitable, that in the end he would either be murderer or victim, that fate would pull him again and again into confrontation with Voldemort…

_ You see now, Harry?  _ A small, cold voice whispered within him.  _ Look around you, at the pain, at all the hurt that people drawn into your life feel. They deserve to know, if only because it means they will make the right choice and leave you… _

Cedric’s hand tightened around Harry’s, and his presence reminded him of how everyone had made the choice to follow him into the battle. He hadn’t forced any of them. This fight was theirs, no matter what, but they still deserved to know...if only because they were some of the most important people in his life. 

“Yes,” Harry said finally, his voice tight. “Yes, I know what the prophecy said.” 

And then the truth came out in a river of words. Cedric stepped in at several points to expand on the explanation of what Dumbledore had told them and what had happened with Voldemort and what the prophecy meant. By the end of it, their friends were staring at them, shocked. Hermione looked ready to cry by the end of it. 

“We’ll help you,” Ron said sternly. 

Harry grimaced, “I can’t...I don’t want you in danger--” 

“That hasn’t stopped us before, has it?” Hermione said sharply.

“Cedric’s going to get himself dragged into it every time, so we’ve got your back too,” James added. “No one gets to mess with the Diggorys and not deal with us.” 

“What he said,” Gavin muttered. “Bloody Gryffindors with hero complexes. Harry, you’re not alone in this. This isn’t your fight. It’s  _ our  _ fight. Don’t forget that.” 

“Harry...Cedric..” The group turned abruptly to the source of the new voice. Remus had spoken, and he was trying to push himself up to look around. Harry’s eyes met his informally adopted father, and felt tension leave his chest in a rush.“Harry?” 

“Remus,” Harry’s voice was strained. “Remus, you’re okay.” 

He was on his feet, rushing over to the older wizard's bed in seconds, and when he got there he collapsed on the side of the bed. Cedric was a heartbeat behind him. Remus pushed himself to an upright position and wrapped his arms around them. 

“Thank Merlin you’re alright,” Remus said softly as they broke apart. “What happened? I can’t remember anything after Malfoy...are Amos and Thea okay? Where’s Sirius?” 

It seemed to take hours to tell Remus all of it, though it probably only took the majority of one. It wasn’t necessarily the number of words, it was the weight they carried. When Remus learned that Cedric had saved his life he seemed to trip over his tongue thanking him. 

The news of Thea’s death left him speechless at first, his words caught on the breath hitching in his chest before he pulled them both back into another hug. Harry distantly realized he had not seen Remus cry--not like this at least--ever before.

Remus was just as anxious as them about the outcome of Sirius’ trial, especially learning that Sirius didn’t even know he was okay. Then came what had happened with Voldemort and the truth of the prophecy. Remus looked like he might faint. 

* * *

Cedric and Harry spent the rest of the morning in the Hospital Wing with their friends and Remus. Madam Pomfrey helped Cedric through the physical therapy for his hand, showing Harry and Remus how to help him with the process. It was frustrating to no end, he could not move his fingers past a certain extension before his joints erupted with fiery pain. 

The thought of walking up to a piano was downright depressing. 

Various D.A. members came by to see Hermione and the rest of them. Cho Chang, like several people, said that next time they should bring more people along. Though it was heartening to hear their support, it was depressing to think that there would probably  _ be  _ a next time. 

Eventually Harry and Cedric left the Hospital Wing to see Hagrid. Visiting Hagrid was nice, especially since Cedric could tell it was good for Harry. The world seemed to shrink a bit during that time; over tea with Hagrid life was just a little bit simpler. 

That evening, for the first time all year, Umbridge was absent from the Great Hall for dinner. For the first time all year, they sat together in the Great Hall; Gryffindor table hosted three Hufflepuffs and one Ravenclaw. That Ravenclaw, Kayla, had tackled them in a hug that rivaled the strength of her brother Gavin’s the moment she saw them. 

Harry and Cedric did try to sleep apart that night, knowing someone would inevitably object if they found out. Perhaps part of that was lingering paranoia--Cedric still found it difficult to hold Harry’s hand in the hallways. Umbridge was gone, yet she lingered, and Cedric hated that with every fiber of his being. 

There were too many ghosts hanging over them. 

That night, Cedric lay awake staring at the photos in the album Harry had given him for Christmas, pictures of all the people most important to him. Recent events had made it painfully obvious how easy it was for death to rip those people away from him. He kept returning to the Christmas photos, staring at his mother’s face as if it might disappear from the page. It was inconceivable that when they returned to Grimmauld Place she would not be there. 

_ And neither will Sirius,  _ Cedric thought with a wave of fresh anxiety. He didn’t know what they would do if the Wizengamot didn’t proclaim him innocent; they were already falling apart at the seams. Sirius, despite all his rough edges, was someone they needed. 

They needed Thea too, but she was gone. Belatedly, Cedric realized he was crying. 

After failing to fall asleep for hours, Cedric had resigned himself to not sleeping at all and opened a book. A small part of him realized he was afraid--afraid of falling asleep and being locked in that nightmare again, but dealing with that meant dealing with everything and that was just too much. An hour after he had opened the book, his pendant vibrated. 

Cedric felt a sharp stab of panic hit him in the heart, the worst possible scenarios all flitting through his head. His hand shook as he wrapped it around the pendant. Harry’s voice, when it sounded in his ear, was tired but not terribly distressed like Cedric had feared it would be. 

_ “I hope I didn’t wake you up, love...I had a nightmare and I can’t sleep. Meet me in the Room?”  _

A couple of years ago, Cedric would have hesitated before sneaking out long after curfew. That was long before he met Harry Potter and learned there were far more important things than breaking a few school rules. At least if anyone caught them this time, they wouldn’t be slicing open their hands to prove a point. 

With Harry curled up around him, Cedric eventually did find some sleep that night. It was not peaceful, but Harry was there to wake him up, to hold him as it became too much and he cried. Again, Harry asked if he was ready to talk about it and again, Cedric wasn’t. 

So Harry talked for a bit, about nothing in particular. Cedric really wasn’t listening to the words, he was listening to the sounds. It was a rhythm and pattern of pitch uniquely Harry, proof they were both still alive. 

Cedric didn’t sleep any of the final nights of his Seventh Year in the Hufflepuff dorm. His dormmates surely noticed, as did Harry’s, but they got the feeling James, Gavin, and Ron likely shut them up. If any staff noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

Three days before term ended Hermione and Remus were released from the Hospital Wing. Cedric’s dad came to take Remus; the moment Remus saw the older wizard he pulled him into a hug. Cedric saw mirrored in his father’s face the same grief he felt in his heart. 

Cedric could tell people were worried about him, and on some level he knew he needed to talk about what had happened but he just...couldn’t. Not even to Harry, who he would quite literally trust with anything. It wasn’t even a matter of trust…

To talk about it, somehow, was to make it more real. Every time his mother’s name came up, he felt a stabbing pain in his chest as he was forced to come to terms with her death. Every time someone skirted around the subject of what had happened, of what Bellatrix had done to him--like they were afraid of breaking his fragile emotions--Cedric just felt weak. 

Bellatrix’s voice never quite left him. It was there in his dreams, whispering. It was there in his waking moments, in his memories and flashbacks, taunting. It was easier to pretend he could ignore it than admit how it made him feel. 

Cedric wasn’t the only one who needed to talk about things; he could feel the pain Harry was shouldering, the pain that mirrored his own. Neither of them seemed to know how to get the other to talk, but silence did not remove what had happened. 

It was most often in the safety of the Room of Requirement they fell apart, after waking from the night terrors that plagued them. But Cedric found it was not limited to there. His panic attacks, for the first time in over a year, were back with a true vengeance, worse than before. He found he could not go anywhere without James, Gavin, or Harry, because without them it was almost impossible to pull himself back together. 

They always asked if Cedric wanted to talk about it. The answer was always no. James and Harry seemed to understand the need for space, though they could not mask the pained concern on their faces. Gavin pushed, as was his nature. 

One time Cedric and Gavin ended up shouting at each other. Minutes into the argument, they were both in tears. If James hadn’t shown up, Cedric wasn’t sure what they would have done. 

In the meantime, Harry, in true Gryffindor fashion, managed to get himself into a fight with Malfoy in which wands were drawn. Harry showed up to the Room of Requirement seething with rage--he wouldn’t say exactly what Malfoy had said, but it had clearly gotten to him. Snape had shown up to break apart the fight, but Professor McGonagall ended up saving him. 

Before Cedric knew it, the last day of term had arrived. 

Cedric, James, and Gavin were sitting underneath the old ash tree on the side of the Black Lake for the last time as Hogwarts students. The day was slightly overcast and there was the taste of rain on the air, the tension of a brewing storm hung over the grounds. The leaving feast was only hours away. 

“Are you going to talk about it?” James said quietly, looking at Cedric. “Any of it? You don’t have to but...y’know we’re here, yeah?” 

Cedric grimaced, leaning his head back against the trunk. All the guilt that had sunken roots into his heart was bubbling up and threatening to spill over. On some level he knew it was illogical to blame himself for everything that happened, but that would never change the fact that he was the reason they had all gone to the Ministry. “I know it’s just...you guys could have gotten yourselves killed and--” 

“Oh, shut up,” Gavin said sharply, looking over at him. “Cedric, absolutely none of that was your bloody fault. Everyone who was there at the Ministry made the explicit choice to be there--except you, come to think of it. You were...you were tortured, Cedric. You were hurt.” 

“You lost someone really important to you,” James added in the quiet moment that followed Gavin’s words. 

With a pang, Cedric realized his best friends, to some extent,  _ did  _ understand the chasm of sorrow that was his grief for his mother. James lost both of his parents when he was just a kid. It would have almost been easier if Gavin’s father had died, and he was facing losing his mother too. 

_ We’re a bloody mess,  _ Cedric thought bitterly. 

“And nothing is going to make any of that okay,” Gavin said. “It’s okay if you’re not ready, just...don’t feel like you’re alone, alright? We’ve got each other, and that’s the only way we’re going to get through this shite.” 

“Okay,” Cedric said quietly, holding back tears. “Thanks.” 

After a long silence that made it clear Cedric was not going to say anything on the matter, James spoke, his voice wistful,“It’s incredible how fast seven years go by, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Cedric said softly. “And it seems impossible that it’s over.” 

“I can’t believe Kayla’s going to be coming back next year without me,” Gavin added, and Cedric could tell the matter had been weighing on his friend’s mind. 

“Hey,” Cedric smiled, “It’s not like she’ll be alone, Gav.” 

“Yeah,” Gavin chuckled, “But it’s a pack of  _ Gryffindors  _ she’s got looking after her. That might be even worse, to be honest.” 

James grinned, “Ah, they're not so bad. Cedric certainly likes them.” 

Cedric snorted a laugh, “Well, I won’t deny they get into trouble. A lot. But I think sometimes the world might need a bit of troublemaking.” 

“I’m…” Gavin sighed. “I’m not really worried about that, to be honest. Kayla’s got a good head on her shoulders, and they’ll look after her, I know, but...I’m worried about this summer.” 

“You and Kayla have a place to stay,” James said firmly, resting a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “You’ll  _ always  _ have a place to stay.” 

“With both of us,” Cedric echoed. 

* * *

When it came time for the Leaving Feast, Cedric almost didn’t go; Harry had to get James’ and Gavin’s help to drag him along. Harry understood why Cedric didn’t feel up for it, Harry wasn’t feeling up for it in all honesty. But Harry knew, on some level that refused to reconcile with the pain of losing her, that Thea would want them to go to the feast. 

So, for the last time, Harry and his friends walked with Cedric and his friends to dinner together. For the last time, Cedric, James, and Gavin sat at the Hufflepuff table as Hogwarts students. Ravenclaw was awarded the House Cup; Dumbledore made a speech--Harry didn’t have the energy to really pay attention to it; and Cedric was formally reinstated to the records as Head Boy. Of all the cheers in the Great Hall, the D.A. cheered the loudest at that. 

In light of everything, at surface value, that seemed such a small thing to be celebrating.  _ But,  _ Harry thought, happily looking at the smile on his boyfriend’s face,  _ sometimes the little things are important too.  _

At some point during the feast Ginny walked in with Luna, and before they broke apart to their respective tables, Luna pulled Ginny into a hug. Harry found himself smiling slightly--he had never seen a Weasley blush the color of their hair. 

The commencement ceremony for the Seventh Years was held early in the morning after the feast. Harry had never had a reason to go to it before--Ron had described it as incredibly boring when he went to it for Bill. This year, however, he joined the handful of students that were following the Seventh Years to the docks of the Black Lake. Hermione and Ron followed behind him, and Harry was grateful they silently understood his need for support. 

Gathered around those docks were family members and friends. Amos and Remus were there, waiting for Cedric, and Harry went to join them. There were silent tears running down Cedric’s face by the time he reached them. 

_ Sirius should be here,  _ Harry thought as the four of them embraced.  _ Thea should be here.  _

“She was so proud of you, son,” Amos said, resting his hand on Cedric’s shoulders. “And I am so proud of you.” 

Minutes later, Cedric left them, waving goodbye as he caught up with Gavin and James and followed Hagrid down to the boats that had carried them across the lake. Harry stayed to watch as the boats slowly shrunk smaller against the shining surface of the lake. It was unthinkable that next year, Cedric would not be returning to Hogwarts. 

“That will be us in two years,” Hermione said softly, a hand resting gently on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Ron smiled. “The day we leave Hogwarts is just around the corner, isn’t it? We’ve got to make the best of the next two years.” 

_ How can we do that,  _ Harry wondered bitterly,  _ when we don’t even know what the world will look like in two years?  _

As First Years, the boats had carried them across the water at night and Hogwarts became a shining beacon of light in the darkness before them. Harry still remembered the feeling looking up at the castle the first time; even as weak and battered as the Dursleys had left him, he had felt--really for the first time--the feeling he now knew as  _ hope.  _

Now the boats carried Cedric and the other Seventh Years across the water at dawn, Hogwarts a pillar of their past behind them. Harry had felt everyone draw in a great breath of air the past week as the reality sank in; the Second War had begun--the world beyond the ground of Hogwarts was not certain or safe for anyone. But, surprisingly, watching his soulmate journey across the water, Harry felt that feeling of hope again. 

Soon it was time for Harry, Hermione, and Ron to join the other students; Remus left him with a promise that they would see each other again soon at the station. Harry walked along with his friends, consciously valuing every moment with them, knowing they had a fight ahead of them and such moments would soon be precious and few. 

But when they arrived at the carriages, Harry found himself stopped in his tracks. On a logical level, he knew what they had ridden to London were the same creatures that pulled the carriages; Thestrals. It was one thing to know that and quite another to see the creatures. 

Recovering from his shock, Harry reached up to gently stroke the closest one’s head. One might assume creatures associated with death to be violent and skittish, but the Thestral before him was nothing but gentle--beautiful. 

Suddenly, Harry’s heart clenched painfully and he felt tears fighting to leave his eyes.  _ Thea… _

“That woman the Death Eaters killed was Cedric’s mother, wasn’t it? You were close with her,” a familiar voice, quiet and soft, said beside him. “Ginny told me.” 

Harry turned to see Luna Lovegood. “Yeah,” he said, wiping the tears on his sleeve. He found he did not mind Luna talking about Thea; she saw the Thestrals, she heard the voices in the veil. There was an unspoken understanding in the air she carried about her. 

“It’s a horrible thing to lose a mother,” Luna said gently, running a hand across a nearby Thestral’s neck. 

“You…” Harry trailed off, searching for the right words. “You lost your mother?” 

“Yes,” Luna said simply. “She was quite an extraordinary witch, you know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine.” 

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled, knowing those words never helped much, but not knowing what else to say. 

“It was rather horrible,” Luna said conversationally. “I still feel very sad about it sometimes. I imagine you and Cedric are feeling like that now. But I’ve still got Dad, and you’ve still got people too, don’t you? And anyways, it’s not as though we’ll never see them again, is it?” 

“Er--isn’t it?” Harry said, uncertain. 

Luna shook her head in disbelief. “Oh, come on Harry. You of all people know there are bonds far stronger than death. We should go now though, our friends are waiting for us.” 

* * *

The journey home--and for Harry, for the first time it truly was a journey  _ home _ \--was eventful early on. Firstly, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without a teacher witnessing, attempted to ambush Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet. Frankly, they were lucky it was the D.A. members closest that got to them first and not Cedric--and lucky Gavin and James were there to hold Cedric back after the fact. 

The rest of the journey was relatively peaceful. They made their way back to the compartment after buying a few things from the trolley. Hermione was reading the  _ Daily Prophet _ again, Ginny and Luna were discussing something in an article of  _ The Quibbler,  _ and Neville was looking over one of his plants. 

Harry, Ron, Gavin, and James spent most of the journey playing wizard’s chess while Hermione read out snippets from the  _ Prophet.  _ There wasn’t any real news yet, but as Hermione reminded them, it was coming. Cedric returned a bit shaken from his rounds as Head Boy, but seemed alright once he sat down next to Harry and opened a book. 

When they finally arrived at King’s Cross, as Harry and Cedric hugged their friends goodbye and promised to write, there was a group of people waiting for them. Remus and Amos both looked nothing short of exhausted; Remus seemed to have aged years in days, Harry thought. Maybe that was something to do with the magic Cedric had used to save his life, or maybe it was just the stress of...everything. 

Sirius’ trial, scheduled for the following day, loomed. 

Beyond them there was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite sinister with a bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye and his gnarled hands clutching a long staff. Tonks stood just behind him, wearing heavily patched jeans, her usually bright pink hair somewhat dull. Just to the side of Amos and Remus were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new, strangely green jackets. 

Harry and Cedric found themselves surrounded by people who cared about them, greeted by firm hugs and sad smiles. Even Mad-Eye was gruffly sympathetic. Somehow that made it easier to return Grimmauld Place, which felt so strangely empty without Sirius... 

Without Thea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end...this is already twice as long as the first story.  
> A thank you, as always, to Tree Spiral!


	22. Get Us Through This

**Chapter 22: Get Us Through This**

Returning to the Ministry was harder than either Cedric or Harry expected; even with Remus and Amos there offering steady, unspoken support. Harry couldn’t be sure--their fingers were so tightly laced together--if it was Cedric’s or his hand shaking. Maybe it was both. 

The walls of this building were horribly familiar, and Harry found he could not look around without remembering flashes of the nightmare they had endured. He almost had a panic attack in the Atrium. Conversation was worn thin as they made their way down to the chamber; talk was limited to the bare minimum. 

Remus kept his emotions, words, and expression forcibly stoic, but Harry could almost feel the tension bubbling off the older wizard underneath that shield. It didn’t seem he had slept any better than Cedric and Harry the night before, and Harry understood why. Sirius was Remus’ oldest  _ living  _ friend, his soulmate. 

It was hard enough facing the trial of his godfather; Harry had no idea how he would handle it if he was facing Cedric’s trial. 

_ We can’t focus on what might go wrong in the future,  _ Harry thought, tightening his grip on Cedric’s hand and remembering what he had told his boyfriend the day before.  _ All we can do is try to get through the present moment.  _

Harry could not suppress a shudder as they walked into the large chamber, filing into the lower benches below the Wizengamot. This was the place he had visited in Dumbledore’s pensieve last year--the place where he had watched the Lestranges sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. It was the same room that had held his disciplinary hearing at the beginning of the year. And now it would hold the trial of his godfather. 

It seemed to take an eternity for the minutes to tick by. The press trickled in; the nature of this case was intrinsically linked to issues about Voldemort’s return, the hottest issue on the press at the moment. People, like Fudge, were scared. People wanted stories from their papers that made sense, that gave them some reassurance that  _ someone  _ was doing  _ something _ . 

Harry scowled. Fudge wasn’t doing anything, not really. The information sheets printed in  _ The Prophet _ hadn’t stopped the mass revolt of Dementors from Azkaban, and they wouldn’t stop the attacks that were surely coming. Voldemort was done hiding in the shadows now. 

With a wave of depressing heaviness, Harry found himself thinking of the youngest members of the D.A. Third Years, Second Years, First Years...just kids. Here the Ministry was, wasting time trying to convict an innocent man, while the world turned into a place where eleven-year-olds needed to learn how to save a life. 

The Aurors that dragged Sirius in--chained like a criminal--were unfamiliar to Harry. No one from the Order had managed to get close enough to talk to him in the last week. Dumbledore had said vaguely that he tried to get Tonks and Shacklebolt assigned to guarding Sirius but that Fudge had blocked his interference at every turn. 

Harry felt a storm of resentment overtake him the moment he looked upon his godfather’s face; that simply wasn’t a good enough excuse. Sirius looked horrible. Not knowing better, just from the haunted light in his eyes, Harry would have assumed they had him in custody for years, not days. In the time he had been held, Sirius clearly hadn’t eaten, slept, or washed properly. 

The moment he entered the room, Sirius’ gaze began to scan the lower benches of the chamber, scanning the rows of viewers. He looked about desperately even as the Aurors chained him to the chair at the center of the room. Finally, Sirius turned to Harry, Cedric, Amos, and  _ Remus _ . A visible wave of relief overtook Sirius--Harry wanted to scream and punch someone for letting Sirius wonder about his soulmate’s safety for so long. 

“Criminal trial of the twenty-ninth of June,” Harry felt him blink in surprise as Dumbledore’s voice rang out across the room. Part of him, he realized, had expected Fudge to be presiding over the trial, but he remembered vaguely Hermione had said something about Dumbledore’s reinstatement as Chief Warlock. 

A powerful emotion had risen in Harry’s chest at Dumbledore’s voice, a fortified, hopeful feeling. Fudge did not look as confident as Harry assumed he would, if anything he looked quite flustered as Dumbledore commanded the attention of the chamber. 

Sirius had still been staring at Remus, almost as if he had forgotten the world around him existed. Only Dumbledore’s words had torn his attention. 

“Interrogators: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock; Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley--” Harry grimaced, remembering the pain Percy had caused his family, “--Witnesses for the Defense: Harry James Potter and Remus John Lupin.” 

“Objection,” Fudge interjected snidely, “Mr. Potter cannot be called to testify unless absolutely necessary; he is not of age!” 

_ But you were okay with putting me in  _ that  _ chair,  _ Harry thought bitterly. A steely resolve was entering him; Remus had been over what he would say when they asked him to take the stand, and he was ready. 

“The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has reviewed the request to allow Mr. Potter to testify and approved it,” Madam Bones said sharply. “He has witnessed events relevant to this trial.” Fudge grumbled but did not object further. 

“The charges against the accused are as follows;” Dumbledore began evenly, “That he willingly leaked the hidden location of James and Lily Potter, leading to their murders and the attempted murder of their son, Harry Potter, on the thirty-first of October 1981, at the hand of Voldemort.” A susurration of mutterings and shocked gasps rippled through the chamber, the press writing furiously. Harry realized grimly that the public return of Voldemort had only increased the fear of his name. “And that he murdered thirteen people at his own hand on the first of November 1981, twelve Muggles and the Wizard known as Peter Pettigrew. The accused was previously found guilty for these crimes and sentenced to a life in Azkaban. A decision of innocence here today voids him of responsibility for the offences of escaping and evading the Department of Magical Law Enforcement over the past two years. You are Sirius Orion Black, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black?”

“Yes,” Sirius said, his voice rough. 

“And how do you plead to these charges?” 

In the space, the silence, before Sirius spoke again, the chamber seemed to hold its breath. The press seemed to lean forward eagerly, quills in hand; Fudge stared out grimly from his pudgy face. Sirius’ words--the words of a man so many had seen as nothing but a raving mass-murderer for so long--almost seemed to hit them with a physical force. 

“Not guilty,” he said flatly. 

“The evidence overwhelmingly--” Fudge began, but Dumbledore cut him off. 

“Were you the Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter?” 

“No,” Sirius’ voice was growing with confidence now. “I was originally made out to be the Secret Keeper, that much is true. They were hiding because there were rumors Death Eaters were searching for the Potters, and I would have done anything to protect their family.” He paused, turning to look at Harry, “I still would. But we believed there was a spy and...James and I decided to switch Secret Keepers at the last moment. I was the obvious choice so we asked  _ Pettigrew,”  _ Sirius spoke the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. The press was writing furiously. “And he agreed.  _ He  _ betrayed them.” 

“His testimony cannot be trusted!” Fudge shrieked, his voice thin. “He was at the Ministry the night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked! He was clearly hel--” 

“I was defending my godson!” Sirius snapped, and though he had not quite shouted, his words rang like a thunderclap in the chamber. A moment later Sirius took a deep breath, steeling himself, “I was defending my godson and Cedric Diggory, who has been taken under the protection of House Black.” 

“Ah, a lie!” Fudge declared triumphantly, “Sirius Black, you do not have the authority to take anyone under the protection of your house, you were disowned!” 

“I suspect the Ministry records have taken my criminal status into account when determining this,” Sirius said evenly. “As far as the Black Family magic is concerned, I am the head of my family. My capacity has been limited without Ministry recognition, but not entirely.” 

“This line of questioning is irrelevant to the case at hand,” Madam Bones said dismissively. “The particulars of the legal status do not influence the innocence or guilt of the accused for these crimes. Please explain the events that led up to the incident on the first of November, 1981.” 

Harry forced himself to stay awake and attentive as the questioning continued. Fudge tried several more times to derail the questioning to talk about the more recent past; he clearly wanted to associate Sirius with the Death Eaters that had attacked the Ministry. Between Dumbledore and Madam Bones, who seemed inclined to at least actually listen to Sirius, however, the testimony remained on the crimes Sirius was actually accused of. 

Sirius’ composure finally began to waver as he described the scene he had found on the night Harry’s parents died. Harry’s eyes were wet with tears by the time Sirius began to explain going after Pettigrew; Cedric’s hand found his and held on tightly. 

“Pettigrew  _ vanished _ ?” Fudge asked, repeating what Sirius had just said, his voice straining to sound triumphant. “How convenient for you.” 

“He’s an Animagus,” Sirius said, staring directly at the Minister. “A rat, unregistered.” 

“Are you actually saying,” Madam Bones said slowly, “That the man you are accused of murdering is alive?” 

“Yes.” 

“How is it that this was not brought up in your first trial?” Madam Bones asked. 

Sirius’ bark of laughter was horribly bitter, “I didn’t have one.” Again, the chamber reacted with shock. 

“According to Ministry records,” Dumbledore said, “That is the truth. We now call Harry James Potter and Remus John Lupin to testify on the events of June 1994, following the escape of the accused from Azkaban Prison.” 

“Objection,” Fudge said, his voice desperately excited, as if leaping on a last hope. “Mr. Black is clearly wearing a soulmark covering. In matters of criminal cases, soulmates are forbidden from testifying in the defense of each other as they cannot be trusted to put the truth above their devotion. Mr. Lupin is also clearly wearing a similar covering.” 

Harry looked to Madam Bones and Dumbledore, desperately hoping they would come to their defense. “...That is Magical Law,” Madam Bones said finally. “Mr. Lupin cannot be permitted to testify without removing the covering on his wrist to verify a soulbond does not exist between him and Mr. Black.” 

Harry was distantly aware his hand had begun to shake, though if it was from anger or fear he could not say. Part of him longed to hex the Minister, or at least jump up and punch him. Another part was terrified at the prospect of taking the stand alone. 

“That will not be necessary,” Dumbledore said grimly. “The defence calls Harry James Potter to the stand to testify on events that took place June 1994 on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft, Wizardry and Wixenry, and Hogsmeade village.” 

It didn’t look like any of them were getting a choice in the matter though. Remus helped him get shakily to his feet, gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, but the walk to the stand that had appeared in front of his godfather on the chamber floor was one he had to make on his own. Harry found himself wanting very much to go to Sirius and give him a hug--he looked like he needed it--but he couldn’t. 

The story Harry told the Wizengamot did not include the Time-Turner or the fact that Hermione and he had been the ones to free Sirius. He told them about the encounter in the Shrieking Shack, how Sirius, like on many occasions, had been only trying to protect him. There was little point in trying to conceal Remus’ condition in the story, after Third Year  _ The Prophet  _ had had a blast dragging his name through the dirt. 

Harry confirmed that he had seen Pettigrew alive, that Pettigrew was an Animagus, and that he had seen Pettigrew again the night Voldemort came back. At this point a statement from Gringotts saying that the account associated with Pettigrew had never updated it’s records to indicate the death of its owner was presented. The assembled witches and wizards were, in a word, shocked. 

“And was Sirius Black there the night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was supposedly resurrected?” Fudge asked, his voice desperate as he grasped at straws. 

“No,” Harry spat, scowling. “At least, he had nothing to do with  _ Voldemort’s  _ return. He was there for me though, after--when no one believed the truth. He’s...my godfather,” he said, his voice growing with confidence. “He’s a good man--a man innocent of the crimes he was convicted for. He would die before following Voldemort.” 

Fudge was glaring daggers at Harry, and Harry found he did not care in the slightest. Fudge’s position in the Ministry was precarious at best and they all knew it--Hermione said he would be lucky to last the month. And for once Harry was glad of his fame, with the public support swayed in his favor, with the presence of the press, his words held a weight to them. 

“I believe all  _ relevant  _ information to the charges of the accused have been presented,” Madam Bones said, giving Fudge a sideways glance. “Mr. Potter, you may return to your seat while the Wizengamot confers.” 

Harry did, Sirius giving him a shaky attempt at a smile, and was left to sit anxiously silent next to Cedric as notes and conversations passed behind layers of silencing spells. Several arguments broke out, but it was impossible to tell what they favored for a verdict from their angry faces. Once the Wizengamot had seemingly reached a consensus, Dumbledore spoke and his voice filled the chamber. 

“It is time to reach a verdict,” Dumbledore announced. “All those in favor of clearing Sirius Orion Black of the crimes for which he was convicted of and sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban Prison?” 

Harry head jerked around to survey the upper benches. There were hands in the air, many of them, clearly more than half! Relief so intense struck him that he was momentarily afraid he might pass out. Breathing very fast, he attempted to count, but before he could finish Dumbledore had said, “And those in favor of affirming the past conviction?” 

Fudge raised his hand, he was one of only a handful to do so. 

“Cleared of all charges,” Dumbledore spoke, and as he did the chains on Sirius released their hold. Two Aurors approached, and this time Harry recognized Shacklebolt. 

“Come on Harry,” Remus said, pulling at his arm. “They’re taking him to a hall away from the press, we can see him there.” Harry didn’t miss the eagerness in his guardian’s voice, or the relief, or the simple...happiness. 

Remus and Sirius had almost lost each other again. Harry could only hope they finally saw fear wasn’t a good enough reason to deny themselves the love they clearly felt for each other. Life was too fragile, time too precious, to not pull each other close. 

The path to the hall the Ministry worker took them to avoided the crowded hallways and Atrium, which were clearly crawling with press. When they arrived, Sirius was already there, anxiously rubbing his hands where the shackles had bruised the skin, looking around. His eyes landed on Harry just as Harry took off at a sprint. 

Harry knew he was crying as his godfather wrapped him firmly in his embrace, but found he did not care. There were far too many painful reasons to cry in his life to feel ashamed when there was a positive one. For a few, wonderful, perfect moments, safe in Sirius’ warmth, something was finally  _ right  _ and  _ just  _ in the world. 

Moments later Harry and Sirius broke apart, Harry turned, following Sirius’ gaze to see who he was looking at. Remus was standing at the edge of the hall with Cedric and Amos, his hands stuffed in his pockets, smiling but not moving. He looked uncertain, hesitant. 

“Go to him,” Harry said quietly, “you two need each other.” 

Sirius did just that, running to Remus like his legs could never carry him fast enough. The two men embraced, whispering words no one else could hear, or was meant to hear. They only broke apart to crash back together, their lips locking together in a kiss that had been building for years. 

“I’m happy for them,” Cedric said, walking over to Harry and looping an arm around his shoulders. 

“Me too,” Harry said, leaning into Cedric’s shoulder. “I was...so scared up on that stand Cedric. Once I started talking I couldn’t stop and it was alright, but walking up there alone...it was hard.” 

“You did good,” Cedric said softly, pressing a kiss against Harry’s hair, “my brave, brave Gryffindor.” 

A smile twitched at Harry’s lips and he reached up to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek. “My heroic Hufflepuff.” 

* * *

Back at Grimmauld Place, Sirius requested that the four of them sit down in the parlour with him and give him an opportunity to talk. Harry felt strangely nervous facing the conversation, but they were home now, he was surrounded by the people that could only be described as his family, and that made it easier. Maybe that was part of family, difficult conversations. 

“First off,” Sirius began, taking a steadying breath, “I have an apology to make to you specifically, Harry. I’ve been...I’ve been struggling with losing your parents for fourteen years. Not a day goes by that it gets any easier. You are...the best of your parents, and for a while I think that was all I, desperate for them to not really be gone, saw. You are  _ so  _ much more than that, and I am so proud of you. I love you Harry, and not because you’re my best friends’ son, simply because you’re you.” 

Harry was left at a loss for words. He felt as though someone had removed a hot metal thorn from his skull that had been there for so long he had grown used to living with; only in its absence could he realize how much it had pained him. From the constant reminders that he was the spitting image of his parents, to the constant stories lauding their bravery, Harry felt pressure to follow in his parents’ footsteps. 

Around Sirius, that had not disappeared. He couldn’t help but feel Sirius looked at him and saw James Potter, his best friend, and feel he had an obligation to live up to that. There was a reason Sirius’ words earlier that term,  _ “The risk would’ve made it fun for James,”  _ had stung so badly. But now...the pressure wasn’t entirely gone, but it was rapidly receding. Something that had hung heavily unspoken between them, an issue they had skirted around, had been vocalized. 

And somehow that made the problem so much easier to deal with. 

“Second, to all of you,” Sirius continued, “nearly getting thrown back in prison, nearly losing Remus, all of you, losing...losing Thea, has made me realize a lot of things. I lost sight of the importance in my life, and because of that I lost sight of all of you, because you give my life importance. And Cedric, Amos, that absolutely includes you. You are, and Thea was, every bit family to me. I swear to all of you that I'm going to do better. I swear I’m going to do whatever I have to do to get us through this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief note on the lack of the use of Veritaserum in the trial; in canon Veritaserum is not often used in enforcement of Magical Law. This is partially because in the Harry Potter universe, memories can be altered. Veritaserum can only make a person say what they THINK is the truth, it isn't a guarantee of the actual truth.   
> Plus, it is my personal opinion that a government having the ability to use things like Veritaserum and Legilimency in trials of law crosses an ethical boundary.   
> Anyways, something happy finally happened! This story isn't ALL darkness and gloom.   
> A hug thank you, as always, to Tree Spiral!


	23. Epilogue: Despite

**Epilogue: Despite**

The home of Cedric’s grandparents. Mr. and Mrs. Donnachaidh, looked as ancient and homey as when he had visited as a small child. The circle of standing stones around the edges of the property, to which the Family Wards were attached, stood as proud as ever, each bearing a Celtic rune. The old three story building, built out of pale grey stone and reddish oak, had it’s double doors open welcomingly. About the lawn and in the dining room milled a crowd of family and friends, some Cedric could hardly remember. It was like nothing had changed, like this could be any family reunion; except everything had changed. 

And it could not be mistaken for just any family reunion; grief hung over the home like the clouds in the sky. Those clouds couldn’t decide whether or not to break with rain, so the weather had resolved to simply become an unyielding sea of miserable gray. Sometimes it would drizzle off and on, never leaving them any more than damp. 

Yet at this moment, there were no tears. This was the wake, the celebration of the life she had lived and given to the world. Looking at the number of people gathered, Cedric could not help but feel overwhelmed by the physical representation of the lives she had touched with her own. But at the same time...it was strange, to see all the people who had cared about her gathered, when she was absent…

_ We need you mom,  _ Cedric thought, for what felt like the hundredth time.  _ I need you.  _ He still did not know how he did not dissolve into tears every time he thought of her; the wound ached with a force so deep he was sure it would never heal. 

“Hey,” Harry said softly, his hand tightening around Cedric’s. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this together. Now I’d really like to meet your grandparents.” 

A smile twitched at Cedric’s face, “They’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Good things?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow as they walked forward. 

“Only good things to say,” Cedric said, releasing Harry’s hand to loop his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder. “ _ Granaidh _ \--you can call her granny, it'll make her smile--has been dying to meet you.” 

“I only wish it were under better circumstances,” a soft voice, thick with a Scottish accent, said. Cedric turned to see the worn face of his grandmother, staring at them with gentle, caring eyes framed by grey hair. There was pain there; the pain of a mother who had outlived her child, yet despite that pain,  _ Granaidh _ was doing what she did best--caring for others, moving about the congregation with her soothing presence. “Hello  _ mo mhac óg _ . This must be Harry.”

* * *

Despite the drizzling rain, which had just begun to pick up, the windows in this room of the house remained open. Resting on the bed, dressed in soft grey robes, surrounded on all sides by a ring of heather, was Thea’s body. Her hands were crossed over her chest, over a wand of willow Harry did not recognize.

Sitting next to the bed in an armchair was an old man, his hands resting heavily on a wooden cane carved with runic symbols. His face was worn, wrinkled, and scarred. He turned as Harry, Cedric, and Amos entered. 

“ _ Seanair, _ ” Cedric said softly, walking over to his grandfather and resting a hand on his shoulder. “I…” 

“You have endured a great ordeal,  _ mo mhac óg, _ ” Mr. Donnachaidh said, using the cane to push himself to his feet and wrapping an arm around Cedric. “I had hoped, your mother had hoped, that the world was finally a safe place for you to grow up in. I see our hopes were in vain. But my daughter didn’t die in vain,” he said, as Cedric began to cry. “She chose to fight for you, and she would make that choice over and over again, until the end of time.” 

_ Cedric... _

Part of Harry wanted to move to his soulmate as he watched Cedric sobbing into his grandfather’s embrace, and a larger part knew he needed to give himself the space to confront his own pain. At the moment, there was someone else who loved Cedric who could take care of him. So he turned to Thea and struggled with his own emotions. 

_ “Really, Harry, if you ever need it, you have a home with us…”  _

He was crying, tears that burned tearing their way silently out of his chest to stream down his face. It still seemed impossible that she would never sit up from that bed. In life she had been fiery and bright, a warmth that sought them out when they were coldest and provided comfort. In death, her chest still, her eyes closed, her skin pale and gray, Thea didn’t look like herself at all. 

There was a hole torn in the fabric of Harry’s world, a hole that he had not known existed until she had filled it. The emptiness of that void hurt far worse than when he had not understood what it felt like for it to be filled. 

And, Harry supposed, that was the risk all of them took with love. 

Despite the pain burning in his chest, Harry could not help but feel incredibly grateful; grateful that in the time Thea had lived Harry had known her. In that time she had given him the gift of acceptance, of love--the pendant around his neck hung heavy with a weight it had not weeks prior. 

The risk of loving was loss, but somehow love graced them with the strength to survive the pain of it. The alternative was no alternative at all; to live without love. That was to not live at all. 

“Oh, Harry,” Amos said softly, pulling him into a hug. Harry was too grateful for the support to be surprised. “We’ll get through this.” 

* * *

Cedric, his father, his grandfather, and his grandmother led the procession from the home up to the crest of the hill. Thea’s body, wrapped in white linen, was born between them, levitated by magic. Behind them followed the river of people who had gathered to mourn her passing. 

The clouds had finally begun to break apart with the last drizzle of rain, letting the sunshine through in scattered rays. In the distance, a double rainbow had appeared, faint and barely visible against the grey-blue sky. It was beautiful in a somber, gentle sort of way that entirely fit this moment in time. 

In keeping with the traditions of the Celtic Druidic blood that ran through her veins, the body of Althea Leana Diggory née Donnachaidh, Cedric’s mother, left this world in a pyre of flame. On the Scottish highlands of her birth her loved ones held hands in concentric circles around her, some beginning to sing the words of a song of parting in Gaelic. 

Cedric found his hand interlaced with Harry’s, and despite all they had lost, despite all they had faced and would have to face in the coming days, he had never felt so hopeful. There were wounds in his soul that were deep, but there were people willing to help him heal. 

Memories of his mother were weighing heavily on his heart. Over Christmas holidays she had told him, _ “The path you walk is your own, but you’re not walking it alone.”  _ Earlier, just after the Death Eater attack when they had moved in with Sirius, she had told him,  _ “Home is not a place, it’s the people you hold close. It’s what shields you from the darkness.”  _

_ I’m not alone,  _ Cedric thought, squeezing his soulmate’s hand tightly. And, for the first time since that Portkey had ripped him out of St. Mungo’s hospital, he let go of a knot of tension. He breathed out. He thought maybe, just maybe, back at Grimmauld, alone in the safety of their room, maybe he could actually start to talk about what had happened with Harry. Cedric wasn’t broken. 

In spite of the darkness, he was still loved and capable of loving. 

End Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Granaidh: Grandmother  
> Mo mhac óg: My young son  
> Seanair: Grandfather 
> 
> For now, this story has reached the conclusion of an arc. Writing this has been an incredible journey, one I am excited to continue. Subscribe to the series and keep an eye out for future sequels!


End file.
